A Promise He Couldn't Keep
by George Stark II
Summary: House/Wilson eventual slash. H tells W he doesn't want to see him anymore because he wants to focus on his relationship with Cuddy and being in love with Wilson makes that hard for him. More details inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** House/Wilson eventual slash. House tells Wilson he doesn't want to see him anymore because he wants to focus on his relationship with Cuddy and being in love with Wilson makes that difficult for him. Wilson's reaction surprises him. A little bit of hurt Wilson but it's more of a scare than anything else.

**A/N:** This is, of course, a Hilson fic, but it takes us awhile to get there and there will be some Huddy first because unfortunately that's what's canon right now. Set post-season six (or pre-season seven, whichever you prefer ;-) Rated M for some sexuality but it's pretty tame until the end. There will be ten chapters total and I will post one each day.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "House M.D." or any of its characters. I do own a pair of slippers that look like monkeys and they keep my feet warm while I write. Oh, and also the first section of the prologue was taken from the season six finale "Help Me."

**A Promise He Couldn't Keep**

_Prologue_

_She stood in the doorway of his bathroom, staring at him as he sat on the floor._

_"I'm stuck, House," she confessed while he watched her. "I keep wanting to move forward, I keep...wanting to move on, but I can't."_

_He stared at her, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide with disbelief._

_"I'm in my new house with my new fiancé and all I can think about is you. I just...need to know if you and I can work."_

_She looked so defeated. It was like she was there because she didn't know what else to do, like she'd given up all hope for anything else._

_He looked around, unsure. It was so hard—impossible, really—to believe this was happening. Months ago she'd told him no, hours ago she'd told him no, and now here she was, asking him please._

_But he didn't even know the answer. "You think I can fix myself?" he asked, eyes locked onto hers, completely serious._

_"I don't know," she shrugged. The way she said it...it sounded almost like she didn't care. She wanted to be with him, broken or not._

_He broke eye contact for a moment before resuming it and continuing, "because I am the most screwed up person in the world."_

_"I know," she admitted. "I love you." She looked away for a second and swallowed. "I wish I didn't," she half-smiled. "But I can't help it."_

_He looked around, tried to get up off the floor, and held out a hand for her to help him up. He stood so close to her, taller than her in her sneakers instead of heels. He stared at her for a moment, leaned forward, and hesitated for just a second before putting his mouth to hers. He held her as they kissed, and then he pulled back to look at her. She was breathing fast._

_"How do I know I'm not hallucinating?" he asked._

_"Did you take the Vicodin?" she responded with a smile._

_He held out his hand to reveal two white pills. "Nope."_

_"Then I think we're okay." She smiled at him, and he gave a hint of a smile back._

_"Yeah," he agreed before leaning forward to kiss her again and threading his fingers through hers._

_..._

_"That was amazing, House," she whispered, grey-blue eyes sparkling in the dim light peeking in from the streetlight outside his window._

_He smiled at her, running a finger through her now-tangled dark hair._

_"I've waited a long time for this," she continued, staring at him with truly lovestruck eyes._

_"I know," he whispered. "Me, too. I do love you, Lisa. I mean that."_

_"And I love you," she replied, weaving her fingers through his and squeezing his hand. "House...Greg...I want this to be it. I've been in love with you for years, I could never love anyone else the way I love you. I know...it will be hard, and we won't always get along. We'll have to work at it. But I'm willing to do that...for you. I want to try, I want this to be...I want you to be the one I end up with, Greg. Not just temporarily. I've waited for this for so long, I've had to struggle with what I wanted, but I know in my heart that what I want is you and that's not going to change."_

_He placed a soft kiss to her lips. "This will be it, Lisa," he promised, looking directly into her eyes. "I've loved you for years, and nothing can change those feelings."_

_She smiled at him, cupped his cheek and kissed him again. He closed his eyes and revelled in the feeling of her lips. As much as a small part of him grieved for what he could now never have, a much larger part rejoiced for what he now did.

* * *

_

Chapter One

Dr. Gregory House stared at his reflection in his girlfriend's bathroom mirror. No—_the_ bathroom mirror. He lived here now, too. After the first week of Cuddy complaining about what a pain it was to have to drive back and forth from her place to House's, he'd just given up and moved in. Not that he was too averse to that; he loved her, after all. That's why he'd pursued her after Mayfield, confided his feelings to her at a dance at a medical conference, tried to break her up with Lucas...

Well, the fact that he loved her was part of the reason why. He certainly would never have done those things if he didn't love her. But the main reason why was because the person he was_ really_ in love with: his best friend, Dr. James Wilson, would never reciprocate his feelings. House had hoped things might change between the two of them after he confronted his feelings and moved in with his friend, and yes, for awhile they had been growing closer, but all that had fallen apart when Wilson started dating Samantha Carr, his first ex-wife. After trying to break them up (much harder than he'd tried to break Cuddy up with Lucas) and failing, House had decided to give up completely on ever being in a romantic relationship with the oncologist, and he was truly grateful that Lisa had come to his apartment and admitted that she'd been in love with him all along.

It was a good thing. He liked waking up to her beautiful face each morning and making love to her every night. Maybe he wasn't as happy as he'd been when he was seeing Stacy, and maybe he wasn't even as happy as he'd been living in the condo with Wilson pre-Sam, but he was certainly happier than he'd been living alone in his apartment at any stage of his life.

Some people described House as a misanthrope. That was not strictly true. It wasn't that he disliked contact with other people—in fact, he craved it—he just disliked contact with people he didn't really care about. And there was a very small number of people in House's life that he did really care about. Dr. Lisa Cuddy was one of them. So he was glad to be dating her. He looked forward to coming home at the end of the day because she would be there, or if he got home first he knew she was coming and sometimes he even surprised her by cooking dinner. Not often, because cooking often reminded him, with a pang of regret, of the demise of his close friendship with Wilson, but seeing her face whenever he did something nice for her made him feel warm inside.

Lisa stepped into the bathroom, fastening a dangly silver earring to her ear and smiling at House. "You look great," she said. "The babysitter will be here any minute. Are you ready?"

He looked at himself again. He'd debated over shaving, in the end decided not to, and was now starting to rethink his decision. He knew she preferred him clean-shaven, but he preferred the scruff. He knew Wilson did, too, but he tried not to let that influence him. Wilson was not going out with them to see House; his date would be Sam. House rubbed a hand across his chin, still undecided, but at that moment the doorbell rang, and as Lisa flitted out of the bathroom to answer it, he smiled at his reflection in relief. No time to shave now.

.

The women laughed—House wasn't quite sure at what; he'd stopped listening to the conversation awhile ago. His eyes kept scanning the room for something to focus on: the bar, the dance floor, the waiters...but nothing held his attention for more than a second. He didn't want to stare at Lisa, he had no desire whatsoever to set eyes on Sam, and his eyes seemed to flick to Wilson every few seconds, so now he was trying his hardest to go a whole minute without looking at his friend.

He didn't know why it was so awkward. The few times they'd caught each other's eye over the evening they seemed to have nothing to say. House blamed it on the fact that they were each with their girlfriends. He'd never had this problem before. Dinner was finished and he really wanted to go, but Lisa and Sam were still talking over another round of cocktails and he knew it would be awhile.

The women's laughter died down and House spent a second getting his hopes up, turning to Lisa with the intent of communicating his desire to leave through eye contact.

Before he got the opportunity, however, Sam drew attention to herself with a contented sigh. "Oh...I love this song...it's so beautiful."

House didn't even know what song it was; it had to be something recent, but her comment caused Wilson to turn to her.

"Would you like to dance?"

Sam beamed at him in response, and he scooted his chair back to get up. He held a hand out to her and she took it, and House watched them manoeuvre around the tables to the dance floor.

It was less than five seconds before House felt Cuddy's eyes on him and, with an eye-roll, he turned to her.

"Dance with me?" she asked, as though her desire wasn't clear through her pleading eyes and needed an audible request.

He bit back a sigh and got up, leaning his cane against the chair and leading his woman to the dance floor. He put his hands on her waist and she rested hers on the back of his neck as they swayed to the music. She was wearing a silver dress with a matching wrap over her shoulders and down her arms. The colour brightened her eyes and he spent a moment looking into them while they danced. He managed a smile which she returned.

"This is nice, isn't it?" she asked.

House shrugged. "All right."

"It's such a good thing Wilson and Sam have found each other again; I think they really care for each other."

For some reason House's heart was making an angry growling sound instead of the normal thump-thump it was supposed to do. Through years of practice at controlling the emotions he showed to others, he managed to keep his expression neutral. Instead of answering, he stepped closer to Lisa and wrapped his arms tighter around her.

It didn't matter that Wilson would never be in love with him; she was and he had her. He got to hold her each night, kiss her, hear that she loved him and say it in return. Except for her daughter, who fit into a different category and didn't count, he was the most important person in her life, something he could never be to Wilson. Not for more than a few months at a time, anyway. But Lisa loved him forever. She always had and she always would. She was not going to leave him for someone else. They were together. At last, they were together.

He rested his cheek against hers and brushed a finger through her long, soft hair. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of her body against his, the warmth radiating from her, and the love he felt from her embrace.

They danced close, holding each other, and continued when the song ended and the next one began.

House was rubbing a hand up and down Lisa's back, feeling the silky satin of her dress and the softness of her skin where the fabric ended. He opened his eyes and pulled back a bit to give her a chaste kiss. Then he let her rest her head on his shoulder again and he leaned his face against hers.

He could see other dancing couples, and even the bar past them, but he wasn't really paying attention to anyone else. Lisa was in his arms and he was simultaneously imagining the things they would do to each other later in the evening and trying not to because she would not be impressed if he got an erection in a public restaurant.

They turned a little bit, with the music, and House noticed Sam and Wilson dancing out of the corner of his eye.

House promptly closed his eyes again and squeezed Lisa against him. He breathed in the scent of her perfume and her flowery shampoo. He didn't open his eyes all the way again, but squinted, gauging to see if Wilson was still in his line of sight.

He was. And he was looking at House over Sam's shoulder.

Without thinking about it House looked back, their eyes locking together from thirty feet away.

And it wasn't awkward like it had been earlier that night. For a second it seemed like everything was the way it had been before, before House had started seeing Cuddy and before Wilson had started seeing Sam. When it was just the two of them, more than just best friends but without crossing the line of...

House didn't even know what they were. Did Wilson? he wondered.

Whatever they were, they'd been less of it since Sam's return, and less so since House had started dating Cuddy.

He tightened his arms around her, refusing to admit he'd almost forgotten she was there. At least he knew what he and Cuddy were. They were together. Lovers. They were living together, practically raising a child together. And since he couldn't have Wilson, this was what he wanted.

Now would be a good time to look away, but he didn't. Wilson didn't either. He looked...apologetic. It occurred to House that maybe he felt bad that they were slipping apart, that even though they couldn't be together together, he still wanted to preserve the friendship. Maybe House still meant something to him after all.

House watched him over Lisa's shoulder, waiting for him to say something with his eyes, give the sort of silent communication they'd always been able to express between each other. He was interrupted, however, by Sam taking Wilson's face in her hands and pulling him in for a kiss.

House forcibly looked away, clearing his throat because the thought of them together made him want to gag.

"Greg, you okay?" Lisa asked, concerned, pulling away a bit to look at him.

He nodded and pulled her close again.

He should not be feeling like this, dammit! He was with Lisa now. He loved her. When he was alone with her there were times when he could go for over an hour without Wilson even crossing his mind. He would rather be alone than with someone he didn't care about, but he wanted to make it work with her. She meant enough to him for him to want to make it work. But how the hell was he supposed to do that when seeing Sam kiss Wilson made him want to set the blonde bitch on fire?

This wasn't good for their relationship. He needed to control the intense feelings of jealousy he got whenever he saw Sam and Wilson in the same room. The best way to do that would be to avoid seeing them in the same room altogether.

House stepped away from Lisa.

"Give me a second," he muttered, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and striding over to Sam and Wilson.

"What's up?" Wilson asked, arms still around Sam.

"I need a word," House said, avoiding Sam's gaze even though she was looking at him.

Wilson nodded understandingly and stepped away from his girlfriend. House nodded toward the door and Wilson followed him.

The restaurant was located on the edge of a large pond and had a deck that looked over the water. House limped over to the wood railing and Wilson stood next to him, watching him, waiting to hear what he wanted to say.

House looked at the water, small waves rippling slightly in the moonlight. He wished he had something to throw in it; that would feel satisfying right now. But all he had was his cell phone and a bottle of ibuprofen and he was not willing to sacrifice either simply to hear a splash.

"I don't want to do this anymore," he muttered to Wilson, still gazing over the pond.

"Uh, you're gonna need to be more specific," Wilson said, taking a step closer to House.

"Double-dating," House clarified. "It's not...fun."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Wilson said shortly. For a second he didn't say anything, and House still wasn't looking at him, but he could feel the other man's eyes on the side of his head. After a moment Wilson continued, "Was there something else? Or did you take me out here just to tell me you don't like double-dating?"

House sighed. He still wished he had something to throw into the water. "Just..." he muttered with a shrug. "Just needed some air."

He could see Wilson nod in his peripheral vision. The younger man made to go back inside, but for some reason he decided to clap House on the shoulder on the way in. House's breath hitched and he flinched at the contact, and Wilson pulled away immediately.

"Don't...do that," he said, looking Wilson in the eye.

"I'm sorry," Wilson said, looking hurt.

"Just..." House muttered, looking away again. "Makes me uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry," Wilson apologised again, also looking away.

House shrugged and, feeling awkward again, followed the oncologist back into the restaurant.

.

"Did you have a good time?" the worn-out looking Princeton student Cuddy used as an evening babysitter asked as they walked in.

"It was lovely," she responded, smiling as she reached for her wallet. "How was Rachel?"

"She was asleep every time I checked on her," the babysitter answered, taking her money. "Well, I'm gonna head out. Goodnight, Dr. Cuddy, Dr. House."

Both doctors watched her head out the door. The latch hadn't even clicked before House had Lisa pressed up against the wall, kissing her fiercely. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and kissing him back just as forcefully. Her clutch had been tossed to the floor and she wrapped her right leg around his left. Her hands clutched his hair and she pulled back, breathless.

They moved to the bedroom, shedding blazers and sneakers and wraps and stilettos along the way. House was already shirtless when Lisa tugged impatiently at her dress's zipper, which wouldn't come down. House hurried over to her and yanked it down unceremoniously, nearly tearing the fabric. She hurriedly stepped out of it and threw herself at him, causing him to fall back onto the bed. He unbuckled his belt while she proceeded to mark his clavicle with her teeth, and as soon as his pants and boxers were out of the way he unhooked and pulled off her bra and fondled her. She moaned into his touch, pressing her body as close to his as possible. She remained on top of him while they fucked, allowing him to stare up at her breathtaking body throughout the act. He rolled them over as they finished, her just a second before him, and collapsed on her, panting and exhausted. He smiled into her neck as they came down from the high and gave it a little kiss.

"Mmm, Greg," she sighed, running tired fingers through his hair.

"I love you," he whispered before kissing her neck again. Saying it felt good. The last person he'd said those words to with a romantic connotation was Stacy, and that was years ago, so he'd forgotten how nice, how satisfying it was to say those words to someone he loved, especially knowing she loved him in return. He closed his eyes, utterly relaxed, and wondered if she would let him fall asleep naked on top of her.

After a moment, though, she started to squirm and he grudgingly rolled off her and got up, looking for a pair of pyjama pants or at least his boxers.

Maybe it was because every day was always so busy for her, but Lisa always seemed to fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. As an insomniac, he envied her this. He watched her chest, partially covered by the blanket and partially by the tank top she'd pulled on after their lovemaking, rise and fall with each breath she took. He didn't spoon her—he'd never spooned Stacy either—but he threaded fingers through her dark hair, feeling the soft strands fall between his fingers. It was relaxing for him. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that Wilson would have soft hair, too, and House smirked for half a second before frowning and rolling over onto his back. The smirk was because he'd realised this was the first time he'd thought about Wilson since halfway through the car ride home, and the frown because he'd realised how pathetic he was to feel proud of himself for going an hour without thinking about Wilson.

He looked at Lisa, breathing heavily next to him, and kissed her cheek, almost as an apology for still being in love with someone else when he was with her.

But at least he was with her now. He had her, and she was his, and hopefully that wouldn't change.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

House was having a good day. Rachel had been less of a terror than usual when he'd had to babysit her while Lisa showered and dressed and made breakfast and left early for work. He discovered that she'd bought his favourite cereal at the store, so he'd had a good breakfast, and when he got to work she even gave him a really interesting case. After doing a differential with his team, he got to sit in his office and play his PSP while they did the grunt work. Being a department head totally rocked.

Around noon Wilson popped into his office and offered to get lunch with him.

This surprised House. Over the last couple of months they'd only had lunch together a handful of times. Wilson often claimed to be busy, and once House started seeing Cuddy he sometimes ate with her.

However, he knew that today she would be in meetings all day because she had complained about it to him earlier. He'd smirked satisfactorily because he never went to meetings. So, with a shrug, House used his cane to push himself out of his chair and followed his friend down to the cafeteria.

Something was still different. It wasn't...awkward per se, but the atmosphere lacked the usual comfort House felt whenever he was in the room with Wilson. He wondered if maybe this was a good thing. Maybe if he and Wilson...grew apart, then his feelings for the man might dissipate and it would be easier for him to focus on his relationship with Lisa.

But of course, he didn't want himself and Wilson to grow apart. Even if they couldn't be lovers, he still wanted to be best friends with the younger man, see him every day...well...until the day he died.

What he _didn't_ want, though, was to continue to have romantic feelings for his friend. He was with Lisa now. He had romantic feelings for her, and he wanted her to be the only one for whom he had those feelings. The night of the Trenton disaster, when she'd come to his apartment and they'd begun a relationship, she'd said she was in love with him and wished she wasn't. House knew exactly how she felt because, now more than ever, he wished he wasn't in love with Wilson.

And that's what he was thinking about as the two men quietly rode the elevator down to get lunch. House was staring at the doors, Wilson at the buttons. Neither spoke. House guessed neither could think of anything to say.

Wilson paid for House's lunch, as usual, and they sat down at their usual table. They still hadn't said anything except for when Wilson had hesitated over whether or not to buy a brownie and House talked him into it because the older man would just eat most of it anyway.

House kept looking over at Wilson, but every time they made eye contact both looked away rather quickly. Instead he settled for watching people in the lunch line. His eye was immediately drawn to two laughing, chatting women wearing scrubs. One of them, the blonde, he knew was a paeds doctor and he was pretty sure the other one was a nurse, though he wasn't sure which department. Both looked to be in their early thirties and were quite attractive.

"Wilson," House muttered, and the oncologist looked up from his sandwich. He nodded his head toward the women. "Which one, if you had to pick?"

Wilson looked over at them and his face broke into a smile. "If I could have either?" he clarified.

House rolled his eyes. "Duh. And not based on neediness, which one you think would made a more lasting relationship. Just sex, just looks."

Still grinning for some reason, Wilson watched them from a distance. "The blonde," he decided eventually.

"Got a thing for blondes?" House asked, unscrewing the cap on his soda.

"No, not really," the other responded with a shrug. "She just...I don't know, they're both pretty..."

"Blonde's tits are bigger," House observed. "But I don't know if I'd want to do a pregnant chick."

Wilson coughed. "She's not pregnant!" he said, looking over at them again.

"She's pregnant," House contradicted. "Swollen breasts, circles under her eyes, she's fatigued–"

"–or she's just exhausted from working a sixty hour week and she's got large breasts."

"She went for the salad," House explained. "No meat because the idea nauseates her right now–"

"–or she's a vegetarian–"

"–but she's also getting the chocolate cake," he continued. "Cause she's got a craving. So overall, I'd take the brunette," he decided.

"Well good luck with either of them," Wilson muttered. "The brunette is a lesbian and I'm pretty sure the blonde is her partner."

"No way," House said, swivelling his head again and then shaking it, watching as they paid for their food. "You're just saying that 'cause I said she was pregnant. You're trying to one-up me."

"I'm not entirely sure about the blonde," Wilson said, looking at his food instead of the women again, "But trust me, the brunette is a lesbian. I asked her out a few months ago."

House stopped staring at the women to stare at Wilson. "You asked her out?" he clarified, nodding at the nurse.

Wilson nodded. "Unless she was just brushing me off."

The diagnostician rolled his eyes. "When in your life has anyone ever brushed you off? They get in line to do you. All you have to do is give them that ridiculous crooked smile of yours and they find you irresistible."

The ridiculous crooked smile made its way onto Wilson's face at the compliment, causing House to roll his eyes again. "Well it's not gonna work on me," he said. "I'm already taken." That, and the fact that he was already in love with Wilson and seeing the smile again made about as much difference as pouring a glass of water into the ocean.

"I wasn't trying to–" Wilson started to say, but then he laughed, and House smiled in return. All right, maybe seeing Wilson in such good spirits had an effect on him after all. And then he realised that suddenly things were back to normal between them. He decided it was the laughing that did it, and reached over to steal one of Wilson's fries.

"So you think they're having a baby together?" he asked, leaning forward in the excitement of the gossip. "Or is Blondie a closet bisexual and cheating?"

Wilson chuckled again. "Let's hope for both of their sakes it was planned. Jessica's a nurse in OB-GYN; if you can tell the woman's pregnant from fifty feet away, she probably can."

.

Despite the rocky start to the lunch, overall it put House in a cheerful mood. He spent the rest of the afternoon pestering Wilson with emails and instant messages when he wasn't diagnosing his patient, and when Cuddy bribed him with sexual favours to go do his clinic hours (well, she actually threatened to cut House off from sex until he did his clinic hours, but his view was more lewd so that was the one he chose) he called the oncologist for a unnecessary consult just to annoy him.

Since he got home before Lisa, House decided to make her dinner, priding himself on multi-tasking even though he wasn't really sure leaving Rachel in her playpen constituted babysitting. The cooking would have been more fun with Wilson, yes, or at least if Wilson would be around to eat it, but he tried not to think about that. Lisa would be around to eat it, and she would be even more appreciative because he was also making a toddler-friendly meal for Rachel.

He could be just as good a boyfriend to her as Lucas had been. He could be responsible. He often chose not to, but that didn't mean he was incapable. House wanted the relationship with Lisa to work. He was willing to put forth the effort to make it work. When he'd had a good day, he was even more willing to put forth the extra effort to make it work. Lisa would not regret breaking her engagement with Lucas for him.

A fancy dinner for himself and Lisa, a nutritional but still edible dinner for Rachel: House's girlfriend would be thrilled when she got home. And he even decided to be a tiny bit romantic and light candles on the dining room table. She would like that. And as he lit them, keeping them out of reach of Rachel, who was eating in her high chair, it occurred to him that this was the sort of thing he could never do in a relationship with Wilson. If Wilson were bisexual and in love with him, (a scenario he tried to envision as infrequently as possible, with limited success) yes, he could make him a fancy dinner, but he couldn't light candles. Sure, Wilson was secretly a girl and would think candles with dinner were totally romantic and would love them. He would appreciate them, but he would also get smug and smirky. Even if he wouldn't outright mock House for his romantic gesture, he would somehow, probably more through glances than words, call attention to the fact that House, who prided himself on being anti-sappy, was doing something sweet. This would...well, it wouldn't embarrass him because House didn't get embarrassed easily, but it would make him uncomfortable enough to regret the decision. And he wouldn't do it again.

Lisa, however, could just take the candles at face value, appreciate it, and love him for it. So he lit candles.

House was setting Rachel down from her high chair when Lisa came home. "Hey," she greeted, setting her keys and purse down and joining them in the dining room.

"Mamma!" Rachel squealed, toddling over to her has fast as her small legs could carry her. Lisa scooped her daughter up in a hug and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"How come she gets one and I don't?" House smirked in a mock-whiney voice, causing Lisa to laugh before making her way over to him.

She kissed his cheek like she had with Rachel before moving her lips to his ear and whispering, "You'll be getting much more than that after she goes to bed, I promise."

House grinned. "I made dinner," he said proudly while Lisa set her now-squirming daughter back on the ground.

"Thank you," Lisa said with a genuine smile. "Why don't you go set the table while I change, and then we can eat?"

He nodded and she gave him another quick peck on the side of the mouth before heading down to their bedroom.

When she returned, barefoot with jeans and a V-neck tee but still foxy, she noticed the candles and fancy setup and smiled at House.

"You did all this for me?" she asked, moving to wrap her arms around him.

He shrugged and hugged her back. "I was in a good mood today," he explained.

She kissed his cheek again. "Thank you, Greg. This is so nice."

They ate dinner in relative peacefulness, Lisa complaining good-naturedly about the meetings she'd been in all day, House telling her about the clinic patient who'd been too stupid to notice that her husband had replaced her birth control pills with candy so she'd get pregnant.

Rachel interrupted dinner, of course, but Lisa was finished eating by then and she took the toddler to get ready for bed while House stacked the dishes in the sink for Lisa to clean later (he was in a good mood, not a fantastic mood) and watched TV.

She joined him on the sofa after about a half-hour. She took his hand in hers and kissed it. "Thank you for dinner, Greg. It was wonderful."

"Sure," he muttered. She cuddled up against him and he slipped an arm around her shoulders. They watched the programme in companionable silence for awhile, but when it ended House decided he was more interested in the woman sitting next to him than whatever was on next.

He began to kiss her, softly at first, but it soon gave way to harsher, needier movements. She was just as into it as he was—one thing he loved about her, she was never just 'not in the mood' for sex. Stacy had been the same way. House had good taste in women. Or maybe he was just that sexy. He started wondering whether Wilson would ever not be in the mood for sex if they were in a relationship and decided that no, he was just as horny as House and they would probably do it at least twice a day. Then he remembered that he wasn't in a relationship with Wilson, he would never be in a relationship with Wilson, he was with Lisa, and right now _her_ tongue was in his mouth and _she_ was the one wrapping her arms around him and pulling him on top of her onto the sofa. He reached a hand around to cup her breast through her shirt and moved his mouth away from hers to kiss her neck and upper chest. She made him stop for a second so she could take her shirt off, and he grinned down at her breasts and forgot about Wilson.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

_He wasn't quite sure how he got to Wilson's office. There was no reason for him to be there; his patient had shown no signs of cancer, and Wilson couldn't have summoned him there because he wasn't even in the office. He sat down at Wilson's desk to wait for him and picked up his thinking ball to play with while he waited. It did not occur to him to wonder why the ball was on Wilson's desk instead of his, nor did it occur to him to wonder what the table from the diagnostic room was doing there. It did not seem the slightest bit strange that Wilson's office had expanded in size in order to accommodate it._

_Wilson entered the office on House's motorcycle, which he parked next to the sofa._

_"Sorry I'm late," he apologised, taking off the helmet and putting it down._

_House scoffed. "I've been waiting for like four hours."_

_"I said I'm sorry," Wilson repeated, looking annoyed. "What more do you want from me?"_

_House smirked involuntarily, and suddenly Wilson smiled. It was a seductive smile._

_"You could have said something," Wilson said coyly, taking off House's motorcycle jacket to reveal a bare chest. He unclipped House's cane from the side of the motorcycle and held it out to him._

_House grabbed the end of the cane and Wilson tugged on it, pulling the older man closer. He backed himself up so he was leaning against the glass table, and his brown eyes sparkled at House. House stepped up to Wilson, meeting him at the table. The cane had vanished but House didn't notice. Wilson had wrapped his arms around him, pressing their pelvises together, and then leaned up to kiss him._

_He tasted nice. His hair was silky beneath House's fingers and the skin of his back was smooth and soft. They kissed, pressing together, and Wilson sat himself on the table before leaning back so House could rest over him. House could feel them both getting hard but for some reason neither's hand had moved below their waistlines. He didn't really mind; they had all the time in the world, after all._

_It felt like they kissed for a long time before Wilson started getting antsy. He leaned his body up to be closer to House, moved a hand to his ass, and eventually rolled them over so House was lying on his back with Wilson above him._

_"Greg?" he said._

_"Yeah?" House responded, smiling up at him._

_"Greg," Wilson repeated._

_House didn't reply this time; he waited for Wilson to get to the point._

_"Greg, you should wake up now."_

_"What?" House asked, suddenly confused._

_Then Wilson vanished into thin air and he heard Cuddy's voice:_ "I said it's time to wake up."

House sat up straight in bed, confused.

Lisa was smiling at him. She held out a breath mint. "I love you, but if you want a quickie before Rachel wakes up, either brush your teeth or take this, okay?"

House looked away from her and didn't say anything. Yes, his dream had caused what was probably the worst case of morning wood he'd had in a long time, but...if he used it for Lisa's benefit, would it negate the fact that a dream about_ Wilson_ had caused it?

He felt guilty. He knew he couldn't control what he dreamt about, but he had thought of Wilson in a non-platonic context several times throughout the day yesterday, and he knew he shouldn't have. If he was going to be with Lisa, he needed to stop having romantic thoughts about Wilson. It wasn't fair to her.

"Greg, is something wrong?" she interrupted his muses, a frown line appearing in her forehead.

He'd taken too long to answer. Exactly how suspicious would she be if he said he didn't want to? Would she be able to guess the reason why? If he agreed, would he be able to concentrate on her or would he just continue to imagine Wilson beneath him? The image from his dream, Wilson bare-chested, flushed and panting on the conference room table flashed through his mind, reminding him exactly how much he needed some sexual release right now.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, a loud cry sounded from the next room before he could make a decision, and with an eye-roll and a sigh, Lisa got up from the bed to attend to it.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower, okay Lise?" he called, getting out of bed himself.

"Okay," she called back over the sound of Rachel whimpering.

He hurried into the bathroom, closed and locked the door, and turned on the shower before stripping and stepping inside.

He was extremely tempted to just masturbate, but refused because he knew even if he tried to just think of Lisa, images of dream Wilson would just crop up anyway. Cold water would bother his leg, so he settled for cool, let it wash over him, thought about elderly unattractive clinic patients and scrubbed his body down.

Feeling less guilty but extremely unsatisfied, he stepped out of the shower and went into the bedroom to get dressed.

"Thanks for not taking too long," Lisa said gratefully as she stepped past him for her turn. "Rachel's in her playpen and I started the coffee; if you wouldn't mind feeding her I'll do the dishes before we leave."

"Okay," House agreed, pulling on clothes. He hoped the morning would be hectic enough that he would have to focus his attention on Rachel and Lisa and whatever, anything but his dream about Wilson.

.

House spent most of the day in his office. When his patient crashed and almost died, he did a differential with his team to come up with a better diagnoses, and so far the treatment seemed to be working. He ate lunch alone. It wasn't so much that he wanted to avoid Wilson, he just didn't think being around him was the best idea right now. No, it certainly wasn't the first erotic dream he'd had about his friend, and it was actually quite tame compared to some of the others, but it was the first one he'd had since he'd started seeing Cuddy. And it had happened after House had spent more of his day with Wilson than he had since the oncologist had started dating his ex-wife. Spending time with Wilson resulted in Wilson on the brain, which was not helping his relationship with Cuddy. So House decided that out-of-sight, out-of-mind was a good theory to work with and did not seek Wilson out. He found other ways to entertain himself. He even took another case from Cuddy despite the fact that his current patient had not yet been cured. More thinking about medicine equalled less thinking about Wilson. And also, his leg hurt less when he was focused on his job. And Lisa appreciated it. Triple win.

As a result of his second case he ended up having to work late, but he didn't really mind. He had something tasty and unhealthy for dinner from the cafeteria and when he got home Lisa was waiting for him in bed. The night was free of Wilson dreams.

.

Having two cases at once was hard work, and the next afternoon House decided he'd earned a break. With half his team testing Patient A and the other half testing Patient B, he was able to sneak into one of the lounges with the big screen HD TV to watch his soap. Fortunately, the lounge was empty and there was no one to tell him off. He'd actually finished his clinic hours for the week, so there wasn't even any reason for Cuddy to yell at him about it.

So House was quite at peace as he sat on the comfortable sofa and watched bad actors pretend to be doctors-slash-sex addicts. He was eating a bag of chips that Chase had unknowingly paid for and rubbing his leg without thinking about it, though it didn't hurt any more than normal.

He heard the door open and decided to ignore whoever the entrant would be. Unless it was Lisa; then he would try and convince her to have sex on the couch. She would never consent, obviously, but her reaction to the suggestion might be entertaining.

It was Wilson.

The oncologist joined House on the sofa without saying anything. He got himself comfortable and stared up at the TV screen.

House watched his movements out of the corner of his eye. Wilson was leaning back into the couch, his hands resting on his thighs.

_Wilson beneath him on the table, kissing him._

No. House turned his head resolutely toward the screen and tried to work out the dialogue he'd missed when Wilson had entered the room. He got himself caught up in the story again and decided to pretend the younger man wasn't there. Wilson didn't seem to notice anything. After moment he reached an arm over to grab a couple chips from House's bag. His arm brushed House's, and the diagnostician froze, turning his head slightly toward Wilson.

Wilson wasn't looking at him. His eyes were on the screen, watching the soap. He opened his mouth and bit into a chip. House could see the crumbs that broke apart where his teeth crunched it. His lips moved back and forth as he chewed. He swallowed, and then slipped his tongue out to lick the salt from his lips. Then he stuck the rest of the chip in his mouth and repeated the process.

House was not aware he was staring, but his friend must have felt his gaze because he turned to him.

"What?" Wilson asked, looking confused.

House shook his head. "Nothing." He turned back to the TV, but it had gone to commercial without him realising it. He still kept his eyes on the screen, but he could hear Wilson eat the other chip and in his peripheral vision noticed the younger man rub his hands on his thighs to rid them of the excess salt.

What was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly so aware of Wilson's presence? They'd watched TV together before—hundreds, thousands of times, and he'd never had this problem. Sometimes he noticed how close they would sit, and sometimes the sides of their legs or arms brushed, but it was never this...tense.

But Wilson didn't seem to notice a thing. The tension was one-sided. Because House was in love with and attracted to Wilson, and Wilson...wasn't.

When was the show going to come back on? Boring commercials for useless products did nothing to hold House's attention. Determined as he was to look at the television rather than his friend, he still noticed when Wilson rubbed his nose, when he coughed, when he shifted slightly in his seat to get more comfortable.

House wanted to touch him. He became aware of that fact and from the moment it entered his mind he couldn't get it out. A brushing of knees, a hand on his arm, any sort of contact. He wanted contact. House cleared his throat. He and Wilson didn't touch unless necessary. It was one of the unspoken rules of their relationship. Wilson pays for food, a pebble thrown at a balcony door constitutes an emergency, and if you want to touch, you'd better have a damn good reason.

Yes, House had been the one to come up with these rules, not Wilson, but the younger man would still be confused if the elder broke them. So the best thing for House to do would be to get the idea out of his head.

But he couldn't. It didn't have to be anything remotely close to sexual; he just wanted to touch his friend. House looked at the bag of chips in his hand. He fished a couple out and then held his hand out to Wilson, grunting to get his attention.

Wilson glanced at House for a second; the proper way to offer a friend chips was to hold out the bag, but he didn't say anything. He took them, his fingers brushing House's palm.

"You okay?" Wilson asked before eating the chips.

"Fine," House replied without looking at him. Did his voice sound weird? He hoped not.

"Your hands are sweaty," Wilson explained.

House looked at the hand he'd held out to Wilson and rubbed it on his jeans. "There."

The oncologist raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything else. He popped one of the chips into his mouth.

House reminded himself that there was nothing sexy about eating potato chips, not even the way Wilson's tongue crept out of his mouth to lick the salt from his lips. No. Not sexy at all. He realised his hands were sweaty again and planted them on his thighs.

He was beyond relieved when the show ended and he could escape Wilson's presence. He had absolutely no idea what had happened during the second half of the episode and didn't care, but he did know that Wilson blinked every seven seconds, he couldn't make up his mind whether he was more comfortable with his feet flat on the ground or with his foot on his knee, and the fingernail on his left thumb was longer than the others.

House tried to spend the rest of the day not thinking about Wilson, about the way his shirt rested on his body or how his tie pointed right down to his crotch. It was challenging, like trying not to think about elephants after someone has instructed you not to think about elephants. He thought about going to see Lisa, but she didn't believe in PDA at work and he didn't want to have to look at her just to get his mind off of Wilson. Besides, as often as he used to make comments about her body to flirt with her, and as hot as he thought she was, he loved her for more than just her body and didn't want to use her like that.

So he worked his cases instead, even going to see the patients and interrogating them and their families. The first one's husband cracked, confessing he'd been slipping her oestrogen because he'd wanted to make her more feminine, and House's case was solved for him.

He retreated back to the diagnostic room, picked up a medical journal Foreman had been reading earlier, and immersed himself in it. When Wilson paged him to exam room three for a consult, he sent Chase in his place. He didn't think he could handle seeing any more of the oncologist today. Not without becoming aroused, anyway, and that was something he did not want to deal with.

Wilson, however, had other plans. About twenty minutes after the page, he showed up in the diagnostic room.

"Hey," he greeted, looking over at House.

House stared at the glass door separating the diagnostic room from his office.

"I paged you for the consult; why'd you send Chase?" He didn't sound annoyed, simply confused and curious.

"I was busy," House muttered, looking down at the journal on the table again. "Chase is a big boy, I figured he could probably handle it. It was a consult, right? If it was meant as a booty call you should have paged me to the janitor's closet."

Wilson rolled his eyes and went to join House at the table. "It was a consult, just...non-emergent."

"Ahh," House said, picking the journal up again so he'd have an excuse not to look at Wilson, though his lack of self-control forced him to take a peek over the top of the pages. He felt a desire to reenact his dream and hurriedly flipped through the pages, hoping to find some unsightly rash or fungus to stare at. "Well as you can see," the diagnostician continued, "I'm pretty swamped. All non-emergent consults get deferred to my minions. And don't you have like...dying people to be thanked by?"

He didn't need to look up to see the slightly hurt expression on Wilson's face as he left the room; he could just tell. Which didn't really make sense, as he'd kicked the younger man out of the room many times throughout their friendship for no reason. And it was Wilson's fault anyway. He had no right to strut around being all attractive and alluring; not while House was in a relationship with Lisa, anyway.

.

House couldn't sleep. Not that this was unusual. Once he got home, he was able to focus on Lisa and Rachel, and inappropriate thoughts of his best friend only crossed his mind a few times throughout the evening. He'd had sex with Lisa twice in a row, and fortunately she was sufficient to take his mind off Wilson. Now that she had drifted off to sleep, though, he was left to lie awake with his thoughts.

Yes, he loved Wilson more than he loved Lisa, loved Wilson in ways he never could love Lisa, but Wilson had had plenty of opportunities to declare an interest, he never had, and now Lisa was the one he was with. So he needed to get over Wilson. Yes. If he wanted to be happy with Lisa, he'd have to get over Wilson.

And he had a theory about how to do that.

The day he and Wilson had had lunch together, he'd thought about him all afternoon and dreamed about him all night. The day they didn't see each other, he thought of him less. Today they watched TV together, and all House could think about was how much he wanted to jump him. Maybe if he stopped spending time with Wilson, it would be easier to focus on Lisa.

House's last thought before he finally drifted off was that he would spend the next few days testing his theory.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

For the next two days, House avoided Wilson. Much to his relief, he noticed that his hypothesis seemed to be correct. While, of course, neither day was completely devoid of thoughts (not being a teenage girl, House refused to use the word 'daydreams') of him and Wilson in a relationship, or in bed, or on the glass table, they occurred with less frequency than they had on days when the two had actually spent time together. He had not had another erotic or semi-erotic dream about his friend, and when he pleasured himself it was to thoughts of Lisa.

He wasn't really happy with the situation; when he saw Wilson in the hallway or out on his balcony he really wanted to go over and talk to him, just hang out for a little while, tease each other and crack some jokes. All platonic. But that would be dangerous. He never meant to have more than platonic thoughts when they'd watched TV together, but he couldn't stop himself. House realised he was sacrificing his friendship with Wilson for Lisa, but every time this thought crossed his mind he reminded himself, bitterly, that the two had barely been friends anyway since Wilson had kicked him out. So how much was he really losing?

It was on the third day of House's avoidance tactic that Wilson noticed something was wrong and decided to confront him about it. House had just eaten lunch and was returning to his office. As he stepped into the elevator and selected his floor, Wilson came from the clinic. His eyes met House's from across the way and he came straight to the elevator without breaking eye contact. His expression clearly spoke that he wanted to talk to House. The diagnostician jabbed the 'close doors' button with his cane, and fortunately Wilson was far enough away that the elevator obeyed his command before the younger man reached him. Of course, not needing a cane to walk, Wilson would simply take the stairs and, if he hurried, he might make it to House's office before House, or even wait for the older man outside the elevator. So House decided to be sneaky, got off at the third floor, called the other elevator, and went to the roof to hide.

Twenty minutes later, Wilson found him. House heard him approaching and turned back to go inside. The younger man caught his eye and House shrugged. "Don't worry, I'm done here. It's all yours."

"House," Wilson said, moving to block the older man's exit. His hands were on his hips. "You've been avoiding me."

"No I haven't," House denied, attempting to sidestep him. "We just keep missing each other. Like now, for example, because I need to...go take a nap in an exam room. Can't do that up here; sun's too bright."

"Fine, if you're not avoiding me, then have lunch with me tomorrow," Wilson said, removing his hands from his hips so he could cross his arms. The roof was windy, and it was blowing through his hair and making his lab coat flap.

"Can't do it," the other man replied with a shrug. "Lunch date with Lisa. When I cancel lunch, she cancels sex."

"You're lying," Wilson responded, furrowing his brow and moving to block House's exit again. "You haven't made plans with her for lunch. You're avoiding me. Tell me why."

House looked down and sighed, tapping his cane on the ground. Well, if he really did want to, no, _need_ to avoid Wilson forever, he couldn't do it without Wilson knowing. "I don't think we should see each other anymore," House said, turning serious.

Wilson stepped back as though the words had been a physical blow; he stared at the older man in shock. "What?" he said. "What are you talking about? Why?"

"You..." he tried to answer with a shrug. "We've both got girlfriends now. We spend time with them, not each other. Our friendship's been...diminishing. Don't pretend it hasn't."

"But we can change that," the younger man pointed out, taking a step closer to House. "We can...hang out more. We can start by having lunch tomorrow."

"No, we can't," House contradicted. "We hang out, our relationships with Sam and Lisa suffer. You spending more time with me has always signalled the end of a relationship for you, remember? And right now I'm with Lisa, which means she needs to come first in my life. We can't be friends anymore, Wilson. We're...we're done."

Wilson looked midway between shocked and crushed, but at least this time he didn't block House's way when the older man moved past him to go back inside. He didn't go to his office, but went to find a new hiding place. He needed to be alone right now.

.

This sucked. He hadn't felt this shitty since the night Hannah died and he'd almost taken Vicodin. He felt an overwhelming sense of loss and didn't know why. It shouldn't be this strong. The two men had been less than friends for months now. All House had done was formalise it. And it needed to be done. Not being around Wilson anymore was the only way he could love Lisa to his full potential, and she deserved that. Hopefully, in time, he would even fall out of love with Wilson and in love with Lisa, and they could be happy together.

Because being with her was the only way he could potentially be happy. If Wilson returned his feelings and they were in a relationship then maybe...but he didn't! And this was exactly why they needed to stop being friends! He needed to _stop_ imagining what life would be like in a relationship with Wilson! This was what being with Wilson did to him, and all it did was make him miserable because it reminded him constantly that he could never have what he truly wanted.

Forget about Wilson! Move the fuck on! You've got Lisa now! You've wanted to be with Lisa since before you even _met_ Wilson!

He was an ungrateful bastard. He didn't even deserve to be with Lisa. He waited for her for twenty-five years, and now that he had her all he could think about was Wilson. What kind of an asshole was he to be lusting after his best friend when he finally had this woman that he'd chased for years?

No. It was going to stop now. He wasn't going to see Wilson anymore, he wasn't going to think about Wilson anymore. Lisa was his life now.

.

He was quiet all night. They were lying in bed, and he was resting his head on her chest just below her breasts. He'd barely said anything all evening. He had one hand on her left thigh and was gently rubbing her skin. It wasn't even sexual. He just wanted to touch her, to be close to her. She was all he had left, and he loved her.

"Greg, is something wrong?" she asked, running a couple of fingers through his short hair. "You've been so quiet."

House sighed. "Me and Wilson...we're not friends anymore."

"Why?" she asked, sounding shocked. "You've been friends for years; what happened?"

"It's complicated," he said, shaking his head against her. "Doesn't matter. He's got Sam and I've got you. We'll be okay."

"I'm sorry," she said, completely sincere. She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head to his, looking for a kiss. He lifted his head from her abdomen and granted her the kiss, and she leaned into him. They moved to rest on their sides, facing each other.

"I'm glad I've got you, Lisa," he whispered, eyes locked onto hers and meaning every word. "I...I don't know what I'd do..."

"Shh," she whispered back, kissing him again. "It'll be okay," she comforted, holding the back of his neck. Then she gave him a coy smile. "Let me help you forget about Wilson."

He smiled in return. That was exactly what he wanted.

.

House tried to tell himself it got easier with each passing day. Maybe it did. He and Lisa were doing well. He actually did eat lunch with her the day after he ended the friendship with Wilson, and he had a rather pleasant time. She was good at distracting him, and he was grateful for that. He noticed that he thought of Wilson less when he was spending time with her than any other part of the day.

It was a few days after the conversation on the roof, and House was eating lunch alone in the cafeteria. He'd avoided his and Wilson's usual table and "borrowed" Taub's wallet so he wouldn't have to pay for his own food.

He was lost in thought reminiscing about some of the things he and Lisa had done in bed the night before, and he didn't even notice that Wilson was in the room until the oncologist had seated himself at the table.

House was immediately brought out of his daze and his eyes clicked onto his former friend's. "What are you doing?"

"Eating lunch," the younger man responded almost defiantly.

"There are other tables," House pointed out with a gesture around the room.

"House, this is ridiculous," Wilson said, dropping his sandwich on his plate and sounding annoyed. "You don't want us to be friends anymore because you think it's a threat to our relationships. Guys don't dump their friends when they get a girlfriend, House."

"You do," House quipped without thinking.

Wilson's brows furrowed. "Is that what you think? House, I asked you to leave the condo, I didn't sever all ties with you."

"Well I'm severing ties with you," House responded, abandoning his half-eaten lunch and using his cane to push himself up. "I said I don't want to see you anymore."

"I think I deserve an explanation," Wilson retorted, getting up as well.

"And I think I deserve a cure for chronic pain," the older man snapped without looking at him. "It's done, Wilson. Get over it."

"Fuck you," Wilson muttered so that only House could hear.

"Got Lisa to do that now," House retaliated on his way out, not looking back to see the oncologist's expression.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

House continued to take multiple cases. It made him busier, and it made Lisa happy. When he got home from work before his girlfriend, he sometimes actually watched Rachel instead of just dropping her in the playpen and leaving her to her own devices. While he did not enjoy changing her diapers or listening to her temper tantrums, when she was simply being a curious toddler he found her an excellent distraction. No, taking care of her did not require intense thought and concentration like medicine, or even cooking to an extent, but it did require constant attention. He could hardly allow his mind to wander for more than a few seconds before Rachel stuck a pen cap in her mouth or asked him an important question such as why the cow on the TV was blue.

Lisa was in love with the idea of her boyfriend and daughter bonding (House recalled that when she'd been trying to get pregnant she'd come very close to asking him for a sperm donation; he knew she really wanted his baby). He could tell it made her feel less like a single mother with a fucked-up boyfriend and more like part of an actual family. He wondered, but didn't ask, if she'd felt that way with Lucas. It didn't really matter, though, because she'd left Lucas for him because she loved him more. She always had and always would. House made her happy in a way that Lucas never could, and that...that was almost...flattering...to him.

House was a mess. He was a drug addict and a jerk; he had no patience and thought everyone around him was an idiot. But...for some reason...Lisa loved him and he made her happy. He hadn't known he was capable of that. But when she came home every day and saw him sitting with her daughter or making dinner, she looked at him with her radiant smile, her eyes glowing with love, and he had to smile back because he knew he was the one that did that, that put that smile on her face. This was his life now, and he...when it was just the two or the three of them and Wilson wasn't consuming his mind...he was satisfied.

.

This was the moment he was dreading. He wasn't naive; he'd known it would come sooner or later, but he still dreaded it.

His patient might have cancer. The scans were inconclusive to his eyes, and the only way to know for sure was to have them looked at by an oncologist.

He thought of being immature and just sending one of his underlings for the consult, but they would want to know why and might tattle on him to Cuddy, who would not be impressed that his relationship with Wilson had deteriorated to the point where they couldn't even work together.

So he grudgingly took the patient's scans and limped over to Wilson's office.

He entered without knocking and slipped them into the viewer on his wall, flicking on the light. "Is it cancer?" he asked without looking at Wilson.

The oncologist rose and stood next to House, inspecting the scans. The diagnostician, uncomfortable with this small amount of space between them, took a few steps back toward the door. The only way for him to keep Wilson out of his line of sight at this angle was to look at the floor.

It felt like an eternity passed before Wilson spoke. "No," he said, and House could hear the sigh in his voice. "It's not cancer."

House stepped forward to grab the scans again, and he really didn't mean to catch Wilson's eye, but he did.

Wilson still looked hurt. His expression held a silent plea, asking him to stop this ridiculousness, come be his friend again. At the very least give a reason, a real reason, for why what they had had to end.

The older man couldn't stand to look at him; it made him feel sick inside.

Couldn't Wilson see that this was the only way? It wasn't that House didn't want to be his friend anymore; he simply couldn't. Being around Wilson was painful because the younger man wasn't in love with him, it was frustrating because there were times when he just wanted to throw him down on the nearest surface and have his way with him, and it interfered with his relationship with Lisa.

They were doing better than ever, and the diagnostician knew it was because making her the priority in his life, the centre of his focus, was only possible with Wilson out of the picture. It was a necessity.

House looked away, took his patient's scan, and left the office without another word.

.

Lisa finished putting Rachel to bed and joined House on the couch. She sat close to him, like she usually did, leaning her body against his. She was warm. He liked that. For a few minutes they watched TV in silence, but eventually she spoke.

"I had lunch with Wilson today."

He didn't mean to tense, and she must have noticed since she was leaning against him, but she didn't comment. "Yeah?" he replied, trying to sound casual. "That's good."

"He asked about you."

"He tends to do that."

"What..." she said, turning to look at him and getting to the point. "What happened between you two, anyway? He said you were the one to end things, but you didn't explain why, and I don't understand either. He's your best friend, Greg; why would you just cut him out of your life?"

It wasn't until after she'd finished talking that he looked at her. Her forehead was creased with concern; it was nice that she genuinely cared. "Lisa...you and I are together now. You're the most important thing in my life now. He's not my best friend anymore because you are."

Her smile only lasted a second before she continued. "But what about Wilson? All right, so you...care about me more, that doesn't mean you need to stop caring about him."

He decided not to correct her. "I haven't stopped caring about him," he muttered. "It's just...easier this way."

"How?"

A shrug was his only answer.

She sighed and settled back into him, looking forward again. "Greg, I think you should talk to him, try to work this out. You're good for each other."

"I don't need him," House said stoically, also looking straight ahead. "I have you."

.

Rachel had slept a bit later than usual, allowing House and Lisa to have morning sex before getting ready for work, so the day started out on a positive note for both of them. He made breakfast for the three of them and they chatted about work and whatever while the toddler ate messily.

House was between cases, but in a good enough mood not to mind spending his morning in the clinic. While there, he found someone with interesting enough symptoms that he decided to take the patient as a case. He ran a differential with his team, grabbed a quick lunch in the cafeteria and relaxed in his office for awhile while awaiting test results.

He hadn't thought about Wilson all day. He'd been too busy, and when his mind did stray, it went to thoughts of Lisa and Rachel and a study of lupus patients done in Germany. Except for the seven words exchanged between them during the most recent consult, he hadn't spoken to Wilson in over a week. The out-of-sight, out-of-mind tactic was definitely working, and this pleased House. Maybe he and Lisa had a shot at happiness after all.

House had his laptop open and was trying to decide whether to waste time by watching porn or be semi-productive and read journal articles online. He'd made a list in his head of the pros and cons of each and was about to make a decision when the door opened and Wilson walked in.

Now House had a different decision to make. He could try and escape through the balcony and hope Wilson wasn't fast enough to corner him in his office, he could ignore his former friend completely, or he could participate in the confrontation and hope it wouldn't set him back too much in his goal to forget he was in love with the oncologist.

Option one was tempting, but Wilson was much faster than him and would probably end up finding a way to corner him anyway. House decided to start with option two and proceed to option three if he felt the situation warranted it.

"House, we need to talk," Wilson said, stepping in front of the diagnostician's desk with his hands on his hips.

"I agree," House said without looking at him. "This is my office. You do not belong here. Leave. Good talk."

"House, please talk to me," Wilson said sitting down in one of the chairs. "Tell me what's going on. Why don't you want to be my friend anymore?"

"Because you can't obey a simple request like getting the hell out of my office when I ask you to," House deflected, eyes fixed on his computer screen.

"Stop that, House, just give me a reason. I don't understand. We've been friends for nineteen years, and now all of a sudden you're saying it's over. It doesn't make sense, House, you owe me an explanation."

"We were friends for seventeen years when _you_ just up and left," House pointed out. "After I'd just risked my life for you, I might add."

"At least I gave you a reason," Wilson snapped.

"Oh yeah, you said I spread misery because I can't feel anything else. I remember now. And I manipulate people because I can't handle any kind of real relationship. Right, glad we had this talk. You can go now."

Wilson flinched at his words. "House, I'm sorry I said those things. I was upset. I was frustrated because I had no control over Amber's death and I was pushing you away so that if I lost you, at least that would be under my control. You know that. You figured it out before I did. You're not ending our friendship because of something I said to you two years ago."

House sighed. "Fine, Wilson. You win. You want to know why? I'll tell you why. It'll get you to leave me the fuck alone." He should have just done this to begin with, should have just told him. If Wilson knew the truth, he would freak out. He _would_ leave House alone. The friendship would be over and House would be free to be with Lisa. He wouldn't be capable of having constant romantic thoughts of Wilson because Wilson would be out of his life. It was the best thing to do.

The diagnostician got out of his chair, walked around his desk, and sat down in the chair next to Wilson before turning to face him. He looked the younger man directly in the eye and spoke. "I'm in love with you."

Wilson's brown eyes widened in shock. "W...what?" he stammered.

"Yeah, you heard me right," House said, keeping his eyes locked on Wilson's. "In love with you. I'm half-gay for you. I look at you and think about how much I wanna fuck your brains out."

Wilson didn't say anything. The expression on his face was one of shock, but he continued to stare at House.

"I'm with Lisa now," he continued. "Not supposed to want to fuck your brains out. I'm supposed to want to fuck _her_ brains out. And I do, but...I tend to have less interest in that after I've spent the day with you. So..." he said with a shrug. "Simple calculation. Less time with you equals more interest in her. More interest in her equals more successful relationship. So we're not friends anymore, Wilson. If I ever get to the point where I can eat lunch with you without spending the rest of the day fantasising about pressing you against the wall and sucking you off, I'll let you know."

Wilson had broken eye contact. He was staring at a space on the wall somewhere to the left of House's head and wasn't moving.

House got up and sat back down at his desk. "By the way, you can leave now," he added, opening his laptop's internet browser and finding his bookmarks. He watched as Wilson slowly, and without another word, stood up from his chair, turned around, and left the office. Then he sighed, closed the computer, and massaged his temples.

It had worked. He'd scared him off. Wilson would_ not_ be coming back. This...was exactly what he wanted. So why did it feel like someone had removed his heart from his chest and dropped it in a pile of cow shit?

It also sucked that now he had to start over again. How could he not spend the rest of the day thinking about Wilson after that? Except now it wasn't even fun because Wilson was gone. He couldn't just change his mind, take his words back and tell Wilson he wanted to be friends after all.

So he needed to distract himself. He worked on his case, he read medical journals in languages he barely knew, he made dinner for his...sort of family, and did not let on to Lisa that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. Second to not seeing Wilson at all, throwing himself into medicine or Lisa and Rachel was the best way not to think about him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Sorry it's a bit later than usual; FF was being annoying and wouldn't let me in.

Chapter Six

The night House confessed his feelings to Wilson he had a dream about him again, but when he woke up it was the middle of the night and he just went back to sleep. Then he had a dream about Lisa, so even though she was too busy in the morning for sex, when he jerked off in the shower he was thinking of her.

And after that he didn't even need to worry about avoiding Wilson; Wilson avoided him. He didn't know if it was more relieving or depressing to see the oncologist duck into a patient room when they spotted each other across the hallway, to take the stairs when he noticed House heading for the elevators. This was what he wanted. No, it wasn't what he wanted. It was what he _needed_. This was a turning point in his life. The end of his relationship with Wilson and the start of his relationship with Cuddy. This was a good thing. Cuddy was in love with him, a way Wilson could never be, she fulfilled his needs and he fulfilled hers. They were perfect for each other. He was better off with Cuddy as his girlfriend than he'd ever been with Wilson as his friend. There was no reason to grieve the loss of Wilson, because with that loss he'd gained Lisa. He'd come out on top.

Logically, rationally, he knew all this. Emotionally, it was very hard for him to accept that things between himself and Wilson were done for good. Wilson avoiding him was a good thing, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. However, after the first few days, he got used to it. Or so he told himself. He didn't exist to Wilson and Wilson didn't exist to him. That was the way his life was now.

So House was very surprised to discover, less than a week after his confession of love, the object of said confession waiting for him in his office.

He looked gorgeous as usual, hair perfect and eyes shining. He was wearing his green tie, one that House didn't hate with a passion. The diagnostician wondered if that had been a conscious decision or if it was just coincidence.

After the once-over, he intended to make his way to his desk without acknowledging that there was another human being in the room. However, the other human being stood up and proceeded to block his way. House tried to sidestep him, but Wilson was quicker.

"You know, you're making this very difficult," the diagnostician said, irritated. Eventually he looked up and glared at the younger man, whose eyes, surprisingly, held no trace of anger or resentment. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Wilson, for some reason, smiled. "I need to talk to you," he admitted, looking down shyly.

"I thought we agreed on no further contact," House argued, leaning on his cane because Wilson wouldn't let him sit down.

"House, I'm sorry," Wilson said, looking up again. "I shouldn't have just left like that the other day. I was still processing, and...I was scared. This...this hasn't been easy for me, House, but...after thinking about this for a very long time, I've decided...I need to stop being a coward and just face the truth. I'm in love with you, too."

House stared at Wilson, eyes wide. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that. Wilson in love with him? Now? Of course the idea of Wilson reciprocating his feelings crossed his mind; it happened all the time. Back before he'd started seeing Cuddy, he would analyse every move Wilson made, trying to see if there was a way...if it was possible...that maybe the younger man felt the same. And there were definite times when he'd thought it was possible. He'd even thought seriously about telling Wilson how he felt, though he knew if he did decide to go through with the confession it would take a long time to work up the nerve. But before he'd made any sort of decision, Sam had shown up and driven away any and all hope the diagnostician had of a relationship with his best friend.

But now...after all that...Wilson did feel the same way. House cleared his throat. "When did you know?" he asked, eyes scanning Wilson's face to read whatever his words didn't say.

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "I've known for months," he admitted. "Just before I got the condo."

"And you waited until now to tell me?" House snapped, glaring. That was just perfect. They could have completely avoided Sam and Cuddy; they could have been together. What the hell was Wilson thinking?

"House, I've _known_ for months, but I didn't _admit_ it until just yesterday," Wilson explained. "I was scared; I've been in denial. You're a man—loving you would make me gay, and I wasn't ready to face that. When you..." he looked down and started to pace around the office. "When you told me how you felt, part of me was bursting to say I felt the same, to...kiss you, tell you I loved you...but unfortunately, a bigger part was screaming, 'no, you don't. House is a guy and you're straight.' So that part won out and I left, I went home and had sex with Sam to reassure myself that I was straight and I didn't have feelings for you.

"But for the next few days," he continued, still pacing, "all I could think about was you, how much I loved you and wanted a relationship with you. It took until yesterday but I finally decided to face my feelings, to admit it." The younger man looked the older in the eye. "I'm in love with you, House. Completely in love with you. I think I have been for years, and I...I think I will be forever. I loved Sam, and I loved Bonnie and Julie, but I know I love you more than them."

He took a step closer to House, maintaining eye contact. "I ended things with Sam. Yesterday, after I admitted to myself how I felt about you. She's gone. I...you can come back whenever. Tonight, if you like." He looked hopeful.

House hadn't said a word since his demand of how long Wilson had known about his feelings. He looked past Wilson, to the wall. His mind was spinning.

Wilson. He could be with...he could...finally...have a relationship with Wilson. Hold him at night, wake up to him in the morning. Kiss him. Make love to him. Grow old with him. He could have all of that.

There was just one little problem...

"Wilson," House said, locking eyes with him again. His voice came out sounding confused; he wasn't sure why. The oncologist's eyes sparkled at him, and House felt desire ripple through his body, making the next thing he had to say that much harder. "Wilson, I'm with Lisa."

Wilson's smile crashed to the ground. His brow furrowed and his shoulders slumped. "House," he said, looking at him and also sounding confused. "Leave her. I left Sam."

"She...she's not chopped liver, Wilson," House said, still looking at him. "Fuck," he muttered, and this time he looked away, pacing around the office the way Wilson had earlier. "Wilson, I still love her. I'm not gonna just throw her on her ass because after all this time you've decided you're in love with me."

"What?" Disbelief rang through Wilson's voice. He stared at House. "You tell me you're in love with me, but when I tell you I love you back you change your mind and just want Cuddy?"

"There was never a change of mind, Wilson," House pointed out. "I told you I didn't want to be friends anymore because me being in love with you fucks with my relationship with Lisa. I wasn't asking for you to love me back. I was asking for you to leave me alone so I could forget about how I felt about you and just focus on her."

"But things are different now," Wilson said, pleading. "I do love you back. And I want to be with you. If...if you loved her more than me then you wouldn't have had to ask me to back off. House, we're in love. We can be together."

"No, Wilson, we can't," the older man contradicted. "No, I don't love her more than you, but I love her obviously more than you loved Sam. We didn't get married or anything, but I promised...when Lisa and I got together, we agreed we were going to try and make it work. She's not expendable, she's not just a fling I can toss aside when someone more interesting comes along. I _care_ about her, Wilson. I love her. God, Wilson...if you'd told me this before we got together, then fuck yes, but I...I'm in a committed relationship with Lisa. I'm not dumping her because you've finally decided to see the light."

"But..." Wilson started to argue but couldn't seem to get past the one word. He appeared to be deflating before House's eyes. "I...I left Sam for you."

"Which I never asked you to do," House pointed out. "Wilson, things between us aren't going to change. If Lisa and I break up and you still want to be with me, then we can talk, but...for now I'm with her, and that's how it's going to stay."

Wilson turned away from House. "I...I don't believe this," he said.

House shrugged, looking away. Wilson was upset, it looked like he might start crying at any minute, and the older man did not feel comfortable with that. Part of him wanted to apologise, but he wasn't sorry for anything he'd done; he was just sorry Wilson had decided to chase after his ex-wife rather than confront his true feelings. House decided to go out onto his balcony and hope that the oncologist would have left by the time he went back in.

It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was warm on his skin. He could hear ambulance sirens, but the ER was on the other side of the hospital and the sirens were faint; the sound of birds chirping was louder.

That was frustrating. If the weather had been any reflection of his mood, it would have been downpouring. The sirens and wind would only be overwhelmed by the sound of the raindrops hitting the pavement. People below would be rushing to their cars in a vain attempt to stay dry. That would make House feel better. Schadenfreude.

The balcony door opened and Wilson stepped out into the sunshine. House, leaning on the wall, turned to look at him.

"You're willing to sacrifice me for her?" the oncologist clarified, locking eyes with him.

"Hurts to be on the receiving end, doesn't it?" House mused, bitterly thinking of Sam and Amber.

Wilson scoffed. "You can never just give a person a straight answer, can you? Sometimes..." He walked around House and stood next to him, looking out to the parking lot. "Sometimes I wonder why I love you when you can be so damn frustrating." Looking away from him, he shrugged. "But I do. I don't know why, but..." He turned and faced the older man, making eye contact with him. "I really hope you change your mind, House. Now that I know how you feel...unless I find another Amber, I'm not going anywhere."

And before House knew what was happening Wilson had pecked him on the cheek and slid over the balcony wall to his own office.

House watched him go, yearning to follow him but remaining where he stood. He turned back to the parking lot and watched patients and staff enter and exit the hospital. A raindrop fell from somewhere above him and landed on his head.

.

This time he couldn't hide from Lisa what a shitty day he was having. All he could think about was Wilson, wondering if he'd made the right decision. He knew he loved Wilson more than he loved Lisa. He wasn't even _in love_ with Lisa.

But at the same time, she was the one he was with right now and he didn't want to be the asshole who just dumped her because someone else came along. Maybe if this had happened before, before Mayfield, before he'd given up Vicodin and tried to be a better person, then he might not have a problem with tossing a woman he loved on her ass because a man he loved more showed up. But now he was trying to be better than that. He'd promised her he would try and make it work with her and he intended to keep that promise.

And when she looked at him...her eyes sparkling with love and her beautiful smile aimed directly at him...he couldn't regret it, in those moments. When she took his arm and put it around her shoulder while they sat on the couch, when she kissed him, ran her fingers through his hair, touched his arm casually as they passed. In those little moments that came every day, he reminded himself that this was why he'd decided to be with her. She made him feel good inside. He loved her.

That didn't stop him from being quiet and introspective on the first night after Wilson confessed his feelings.

House was sitting on the sofa, pretending to watch TV but with no clue what was actually on. He'd given up on trying not to think about Wilson for tonight; after what had transpired this afternoon he knew there was no point in even trying. For the next few days he would avoid Wilson again, and maybe then he'd be able to go back to not thinking about him as often. He rubbed his leg absent-mindedly but other than that didn't really move.

Lisa's face appeared in his field of vision. Her eyes sought his out, her brow furrowed. "Greg, did you hear me?" she asked, her voice sounding faraway.

She came into focus and his eyes clicked onto hers. "What?" he asked, shaking his head slightly to clear it.

"I was asking where you'd like to go for dinner this weekend," she said, looking concerned. "Are you okay? I said your name like three times; it was like you were in a different world."

Wilson-world. It had a nice ring to it.

"Sorry, Lise," he said, reaching for her hand and stroking it. "Just...going through some stuff..."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, settling back down on the couch and leaning close to him but still holding his eye.

House shook his head. "Personal."

He could tell from her expression she thought that whatever was personal for him involved her, as his girlfriend, but thankfully she decided to hold her tongue. "Do you have an appointment with Darryl this week?" she asked.

"Next week," he corrected. At her insistence, he'd returned to his therapist after the two had gotten together. It had been their first real fight, because she'd made it a condition of his employment and said that just because they were dating didn't mean she wouldn't fire him if he violated the conditions. Knowing it was probably for the best, he'd grudgingly agreed and saw Dr. Nolan for an hour every two weeks.

"Whatever it is, you should talk to him about it," she suggested gently. "That's why he's there."

House nodded. "Maybe..." he said wistfully, not making a decision. "Maybe I will."

He wasn't entirely sure why he'd never confessed to his psychologist his romantic feelings for his best friend. He'd never told another soul until Wilson last week, and just let everyone think he loved Wilson platonically and Lisa romantically. He thought part of it was that he thought Nolan's recommendation might be to tell Wilson, which he hadn't been ready to do. Now that he had, though...except what if Nolan told him to leave Lisa for Wilson?

And then House felt guilty because his heart leaped in his chest at that idea. He wanted to be with Wilson.

But he wasn't going to. All right, he'd tell Nolan, but he wasn't going to leave Lisa, not even if the therapist recommended it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The first day, he accidentally caught Wilson's eye from across the hall, accompanied by a pang of desire, of regret and pain.

The second day they were both in the cafeteria at the same time. House avoided Wilson's eye, but he knew the younger man saw him and could tell he was looking at him.

The third day House thought he'd made it through the whole day without running into him, but as the doors of the crowded elevator started to close, an arm stuck through to open it and Wilson, not noticing House behind the others until it was too late, joined him in the elevator. Of course, everyone else got off before the elevator reached the ground floor, leaving the two alone for a tense twenty-second ride.

Both doctors refused to look at each other, but when the doors opened Wilson turned to him before he stepped out. "House–" he started to say, his brown eyes pleading, but when the diagnostician looked at him he cut himself off and didn't finish. He looked at the floor and House stepped past him, heading out to go home.

The next day, he needed a consult again.

Foreman had preemptively paged Wilson to the diagnostic room, so just as House grudgingly determined he would have to go pay his former friend a visit, the oncologist stepped into the room. He looked at Foreman. "You paged for a consult?"

The neurologist flipped on the light, illuminating the scan, and Wilson walked over to it.

House was watching him. He was wearing his lab coat and his tie was burgundy. It looked nice on him. House decided he must really be losing it if he was starting to actually approve of one of Wilson's ties.

Wilson must have felt his gaze, because on his way to look at the scan (since when did it take a person so long to cross a room?) he turned and locked eyes with the diagnostician. They stared at each other for a moment, Wilson's eyes still carrying the hurt, pleading look they'd worn since...really, since House had said they weren't friends anymore. _Please,_ they said. _I want to be with you. Don't hurt me like this. Please._ House's eyes were hard, resigned. _What can I do, Wilson?_

_You can leave her. Leave her. Come be with me._

_I can't. You know I can't._

_But you love me._

_I know. I do love you. But I love her too._

Wilson turned away to look at the scan. He looked at for a moment and then sighed and turned back to House.

"Well?" the older man asked. "Is it cancer?"

The oncologist nodded, looking at him again. "Do a biopsy. Even if it's malignant...we should be able to remove it surgically. She...she's got a good chance."

Still looking at him, House nodded in return. He was aware that his three employees (he hadn't hired a replacement for Thirteen; he'd gotten along with three before her, he could get along with three after her) were all staring at them. House thought he'd been exaggerating when it had crossed his mind that the tension in the air was tangible.

_Please, House, _Wilson's eyes begged.

_I can't._

_You can._

_I won't._

_Please._

_No._

Chase cleared his throat, and the rest of the mens' eyes clicked onto him. "Well, I'm going to go do that biopsy then. Foreman, give me a hand," he added, getting up.

Foreman nodded.

"I'll go with them," Taub said, getting out of his chair and following his coworkers out of the room. All three of their eyes remained glued to House and Wilson all the way out the door, which closed silently behind them.

"House," Wilson started, taking a step closer to him.

"There's nothing to say, Wilson," House responded, looking away.

"You're not happy," the younger man said, his hands moving automatically to his hips as he watched him. "Whenever I see you, I can see that you're not happy. Maybe if you were, I'd accept this, but...come on, House! You're making yourself miserable on purpose."

"I'm not miserable!" House argued, glaring at him. "When I'm with her...when I'm alone with her...it's different."

"Are you happy?" Wilson grilled.

"Sometimes," the other man muttered, looking away. "She...she loves me, Wilson."

"So do I!" Wilson said, imploring.

"But she was there," House pointed out. "You weren't. I...it is what it is, Wilson. It's too late to change it."

"It's not," Wilson argued, shaking his head. "And you know it's not. You could break up with her today, right now–"

"–But I'm not going to," House interrupted. "Wilson, I..." he sighed. "I'm not sorry. It'd be one thing if I hated my life with Lisa, but I don't. I go home, I see her there...and I love her. She can...she helps me forget that my life sucks, and when I'm with her, it doesn't suck." He shrugged. "In general, you have that same effect, except for recently when seeing you just reminds me that I can't be with you. And that does suck, and that's why to you I don't seem happy. But I've made my decision, Wilson. I picked her. And that's...not gonna change."

Wilson looked at him. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, and looked at the ground. Then he left the office, House's eyes on his back.

.

House closed the door behind him and seated himself down in the armchair. It had been two days since the conversation in the diagnostic room, and even though he hadn't seen Wilson since except for a passing glance, hadn't locked eyes with him or spoken to him, the oncologist still weighed heavily on his mind. When he was alone with Lisa, talking with her or making love with her, then he could usually stay focused on the moment and just enjoy being with her. But other times, when his mind wandered it was almost always to Wilson. He didn't know if he just needed more time or if he was doing the wrong thing in staying with Lisa. While he remembered the promise he'd made to himself not to take Nolan's advice if the advice was to leave her, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep it. Not that the man would tell him what to do; he'd want House to make the decision for himself. But the diagnostician guessed that he might be able to tell from Nolan's attitude what his therapist thought was the right choice.

"Hello, Greg," Dr. Nolan greeted.

House nodded in acknowledgement, tapping his cane against the ground between his legs.

"What's on your mind?"

The diagnostician took a deep breath and looked at his psychologist. "We've been doing this...what, just over a year now?"

"Sounds about right," Nolan replied, trying to read his face.

"During all that time, have I ever mentioned that I'm in love with Wilson?"

If Nolan was surprised, he didn't show it. "No," he said calmly. "I believe you've left that detail out."

"Right, knew I was forgetting something. So, yeah. In love with Wilson. I guess it's time you knew."

"Well, better late than never," Nolan agreed. "What about Lisa? Don't you love her?"

"Yeah, I love her," House said. "Just not...the same. Not in love with her."

"I see. So...why did you decide to proceed with a relationship with her if you're not in love with her?"

House shrugged. "I didn't think Wilson would ever love me back. He had Sam. I was trying to move on. I still love her. I'm still glad I'm with her."

"Does she know you're not in love with her?" Nolan inquired.

He shook his head. "She knows I love her. I've never said I was 'in love' with her. But she's happy."

"Are you happy?"

"You sound like Wilson," House observed. "Sometimes. When I'm with her, I am."

"Okay," the other man said, leaning back in his chair. "Does James know how you feel about him?"

"Yeah," he said. "I told him like a week and a half ago. I wanted him to leave me alone and figured that'd scare him off. It worked for a week, but then he came back and told me he loved me too and wanted to be with me."

"We can get back to that," Nolan said, "But first could you explain to me why you wanted James to leave you alone?"

House explained his logic, his theory about how spending less time with Wilson made things easier with Lisa. Nolan only had a few comments; he mostly listened and wrote some stuff down.

"All right," Nolan said with a nod. "So you confessed to James that you were in love with him, not in the hope that he'd return your feelings, but so that he would understand why you couldn't be his friend anymore?"

"Yeah."

"But he actually does return your feelings, he left Sam and is interested in starting a relationship with you."

"Yeah," House repeated.

"So what are you going to do?" the psychologist asked, shifting in his chair to get more comfortable.

House was looking past him, out the windows. "When Lisa and I got together, I told her I'd try to make it work with her. I had to tell Wilson no."

"You're staying with Lisa?" Nolan asked. This time, he did sound surprised.

"I'm not gonna break my word to her," House muttered. "Not gonna just throw away everything we've been working toward...for years. Wilson...it's too late for us. I'm single for eleven years and he waits until I'm in a relationship to tell me how he feels. Pretty shitty timing."

"To be fair," Nolan pointed out, "he told you a week after you told him. You were the one who waited until you were in a relationship to tell _him _how you felt. Maybe if you'd done so sooner, he would have reciprocated your feelings then."

"I thought about it," House defended. "After he bought me the organ I thought he might feel the same way. But before I got a chance to say anything he jumped into bed with Sam, so I gave up."

"But now he's left Sam for you," the therapist said. "But you're rejecting him. Are you choosing Lisa over him because you want to _be _with her over him or is it because you're trying to punish him for all the times he's chosen a woman over you?"

Words flashed through House's brain.

_You're willing to sacrifice me for her?_

_Hurts to be on the receiving end, doesn't it?_

"I..." House said, looking straight ahead. "I don't know," he answered honestly. When his psychologist didn't respond, the diagnostician turned to him. "Why does it have to be one of those two reasons?" he asked. "Why can't it be because Lisa's important enough to me that I'm not just gonna dump her on a whim?"

"Is that the reason?" Nolan asked. House didn't answer, so he continued, "Is being in a relationship with Lisa what you really want? Or do you really want to be with Wilson?"

"It's not that simple," House said, looking away.

"Sure it is," Nolan said. "I'm not asking for reasons, I'm not asking you who you think you _should _be with. I'm asking who you _want_ to be with. When it comes down to it, which of the two would you rather end up with?"

Yes, that was a very easy question to answer. House chose not to do so aloud. "What you _want_ isn't always the right decision," the diagnostician pointed out.

"That's true, but when it comes to relationships, what you want is an important factor in the right decision. It's your life, Greg. You need to do what is healthy for you and what makes you happy. If the person you wanted to be with was abusive, for example, then being with them would not be the right decision because it's not healthy for you. But unless Lisa or James have hit you or in some other way, physically or emotionally, hurt you, then I think either of them would be a fine decision and it's up to you to decide the reasons behind it. I just want to remind you that when you first came here you told me you wanted to be happy. Based on that goal, I recommend you choose the person you think is most likely to make you happy."

"I don't think I can be_ happy_ living with the fact that I gave up on a potentially fulfilling relationship just because I saw an opportunity for another potentially fulfilling relationship. I made a promise to a woman I loved and I'm not going to break it just because someone else came along. I'm not Wilson."

"Interesting," Nolan said.

House glared at him. "What?"

"That you so readily associate James with a lack of commitment," the psychologist replied. "Have you thought that maybe that's the reason you're not choosing James, because you're doubtful that the relationship would be successful?"

The diagnostician looked away. "He loves me more than them," he muttered. "He told me he loves me more than them. And he said he thinks he always will." House shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know what he was thinking when he married Bonnie or Julie. Maybe he thought he was in love with them or maybe he knew it would fail."

"Do you think that if you entered into a relationship with James, it would fail?"

"I really don't see how this is relevant," House pointed out, looking up. "Because I'm _not_ entering into a relationship with James, I'm in a relationship with Lisa. I've chosen Lisa."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

House had lots of reasons for choosing Lisa, some more legitimate than others. He knew he'd feel like shit for hurting her if he chose Wilson, but of course he also felt like shit for hurting Wilson by choosing her. For the first time since he'd realised he was in love with his best friend, House wished the oncologist did not share his feelings. It would be so much easier if his love was unrequited. So much cleaner. A ready-made excuse to stay with Lisa until the end of time. Before, he'd lie awake at night wondering what it would be like to have Wilson beside him, knowing it was an idle fantasy that would never come true. Now he lay awake knowing that if he wanted Wilson next to him, he could make it happen within the day. He tried as hard as he could not to think those thoughts, because whenever he did he felt a strange leaping feeling in his chest, immediately followed by overwhelming guilt. He'd turn to his girlfriend, slip a hand through her hair and cup her cheek. She usually smiled in her sleep and turned into his touch, which only served to make him guiltier. Her she was, completely in love with him, meanwhile he was fantasising about someone else.

But at least he chose her, he reminded himself. Yes, he was in love with Wilson, but he was sticking by Lisa's side. It was the right thing to do. She wanted him to be with her, and he was going to give her what she wanted. He owed her that.

At the same time, though, he knew he was being unfair to her. Lying by omission. Though he meant it every time he told her he loved her, he knew she believed he was in love with her. She thought his heart belonged to her, and it did not. She was just borrowing it indefinitely. Renting it from Wilson.

Would she want to be with him if she knew his feelings weren't as strong as hers? He wasn't sure if she could be happy with anyone else—she'd tried so hard to make it work with Lucas, but she knew she really wanted House. So would she look past the fact that he was in love with someone else and be with him anyway? He couldn't know unless he told her. She was happier not knowing, certainly, but she was living a lie this way. It wasn't fair to her.

Neither way was fair to her.

But she was a grown woman. She knew by now that life wasn't fair.

He decided to tell her.

.

Just like House was unsure of his real reasons for staying with Lisa, he was also unsure of his real reasons for telling her he was in love with Wilson. The part of him that always tried to force his wandering mind to daydream of his best friend was convinced that he hoped she would break up with him upon hearing the news, leaving him free to be with Wilson. He tried to suppress that part, telling himself that she deserved to know. Of course, he'd never considered telling her before he knew Wilson felt the same way, so maybe that wasn't why. But he'd also hoped, before his and Wilson's conversation in his office, that his feelings for the oncologist might dissipate. Knowing the other man felt the same way, he no longer believed there was any chance of that happening. What he felt for Wilson wouldn't go away just because he wanted it to. It was a permanent state.

But at the same time, he knew he would also always have feelings for Lisa. He'd been interested in a relationship with her since he'd known her in med school, before he and Wilson had even met. His feelings for her weren't as strong as those for Wilson, but they were there. They'd lasted twenty-five years. They wouldn't go away. House wasn't even sure how long he'd been in love with Wilson, but it wasn't nearly as long as he'd loved Lisa.

He loved Lisa. He was determined to cling to that fact. It made his relationship mean something. It kept it from being a farce.

.

It was about eight-thirty at night. Lisa had just put Rachel to bed and was now making her way to join her boyfriend on the sofa. She was wearing navy blue sweats and a V-neck T-shirt, her hair in a messy ponytail much like it had been the night of the Trenton disaster when she'd told House she loved him. She looked tired but cheerful as she sat down next to House and smiled at him.

He felt like the world's biggest asshole for what he had to do.

"What's up?" she asked.

He'd been watching her as she sat down instead of looking at the TV. He hadn't been aware of it. Her left leg dangled of the sofa and she was holding her right knee, leaning on it.

"Lisa, I..." They watched each other. She waited patiently for him to go on. "I love you."

She nodded and smiled. "I love you too, Greg."

He shook his head. "I love you. I'm not in love with you."

Her smile faded.

"I'm still gonna make this work," he insisted before she could say anything. "I care about you, you're important to me, I told you I would and I will. I've loved you for twenty-five years. I've waited for you for twenty-five years. I'm not gonna pretend that doesn't mean something to me. We're together and I don't want that to change. I just..." as he trailed off he looked away. "I just think it's better that you know the truth."

"Which is what?" she asked angrily. Her brow had furrowed and her glare held confusion. "What, you're not in love with me but you want to be with me? What the hell is that supposed to mean, House?"

Yes, she was mad. It had been a long time since she'd used his surname; even at work she called him Greg, though he admitted that at the hospital he still thought of her as Cuddy.

"I don't want this to change," he explained, though part of him, of course, did. "We've worked toward this for a long time, I made a promise to you and I'm keeping it. I'm not throwing it away. I just don't wanna lie to you."

"Of course you don't," she scoffed, looking away. "Everybody lies except you, right? You're not gonna...be nice to try and please somebody, even somebody you love."

She said it with disdain. He recalled that Wilson once said that was the reason he was friends with House, because House didn't lie to make people feel better. It was refreshing to him, a quality in the diagnostician that he liked (though to be fair, he too had expressed frustration with it at times). But here she was wishing he weren't that way, preferring he keep her happy by feeding her untruths. Ignorance is bliss, right?

"This is who I am," he said softly. "Take it or leave it."

"Well which do you want me to do?" she demanded. "At this point I'm not even sure."

"Lisa, I don't want to break up with you," he said, shifting his body on the sofa so he could look at her without tilting his head. He started to take her hand, and she looked down at it but didn't pull away. "I mean that. I love you."

She looked at him for a second, trying to read his face. He tried to give her a loving expression to show that he meant what he said. Lisa sighed. "But you're not in love with me. Is there someone you_ are_ in love with then, or just...what, Greg?"

He looked away and nodded. "I'm in love with Wilson."

Lisa scoffed and pulled her hand away. "Wilson," she repeated, saying the name as though it were dirty. "Of course you are. This is just...typical."

"I can't help it, Lisa," he defended. "You can't control who you fall for. You know this as well as anyone. Like you reminded me the night we got together, you wished you didn't love me; you wanted to be with Lucas but I was holding you back."

"Don't you turn this around and get upset with me," she said with a glare. "I chose you, didn't I?"

"And I'm choosing you," House said.

"There's a difference, House," she pointed out. "You don't even have a choice. Wilson is straight; he doesn't love you. If he did I'm sure you'd just run to him."

"Well you're wrong," he said defiantly, irritated with her for assuming. "He does love me. He told me he did last week. He asked me to leave you. But I told him no. Because I _love_ you, Lisa. I could have either of you, and I'm picking you."

She looked surprised; much more surprised at hearing Wilson's feelings than she had at hearing House's. "Why?" she asked eventually.

Not looking at her, he half-shrugged. "I promised you I'd try to make it work. You're important enough to me that I'm going to keep that promise."

For the first time since he'd told her he wasn't in love with her, she smiled.

He turned to her. "You mean a lot to me, Lisa. I don't want to give you up."

She nodded, and he leaned forward to hug her. She hugged him back, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "You're sure this is what you want?" she whispered into his ear.

He nodded against her face and stroked her hair. "I'm sure, Lisa."

"And you're not going to change your mind?" she continued, keeping a tight hold on his body, keeping him close to her.

"I won't change my mind."

He continued to hold her, and she smiled.

.

Neither Lisa nor House brought up the topic again, but he knew there was a subtle shift in their relationship. She was more guarded around him, and her smile was sometimes strained. She didn't initiate touching as frequently as she used to. He had to move next to her on the couch, as though telling her it was okay if she wanted to cuddle with him. Things hadn't changed for him. He still felt warm inside when he looked at her, and especially when she smiled at him. He still felt extremely attracted to her and sometimes started a make-out session that would lead to sex just because she bent over to pick something up, or if he was in the room when she changed her clothes. House hoped that, in time, his girlfriend would come to realise that he didn't think of her as just a substitute for what he really wanted, he loved being with her even though she was Lisa and not Wilson, and maybe she would regain the comfort she'd had with him before he'd told her about his feelings for his friend.

He knew it would take time, though. Especially when they saw each other at work, she acted unsure of their relationship. One time, about a week after their conversation, House and Lisa were eating lunch together in the cafeteria and Wilson walked by. He smiled at Lisa as he passed, and House watched him go even though the younger man did not look at him.

House didn't think he'd been looking at Wilson any more than was normal to watch someone who'd just walked by the table, but Lisa must have noticed because, out of nowhere, she sighed, "Greg, are you sure?"

He turned back to face her, looking directly into her blue-grey eyes. "Lisa, do you _want_ me to leave you for him?" he asked, slightly irritated.

"Of course not," she said, looking down. "I love you and I want you to be with me, but I also want you to be happy. If you're not happy–"

"–Do I seem unhappy?" he cut her off. She must have felt his eyes on her, because she looked up at him again. "When we're at home, and I'm with you, eating dinner or watching TV or having sex or anything in between, does it ever seem to you like my heart's not in it, like it isn't really what I want?"

"No," she admitted, shaking her head. "No...other than telling me how you feel about him, you haven't given me any cause for doubt..."

"So don't doubt, then," he said. Not caring that they were in public, he reached across the table for her hand, stroking it. "Lisa, when I'm with you...of course, there are times when I think about what could have been with him, but who doesn't sometimes have thoughts of other people? But when I'm with you, like ninety-five percent of the time you make me completely forget about him. I look at you and I see the woman that I love and I want to be with you."

"But what about when you're not with me?" she asked. "When you're alone and there's no one there to distract you. When you can be honest with yourself, Greg, am I really who you want?"

"I'm not going to change my mind, Lisa," he said solemnly. "I don't know what more I can do to convince you that our life together is something I don't want to lose."

"Even for him?" she asked, her voice filled with doubt.

He simply repeated, "I'm not changing my mind."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Lisa slowly decided to let the matter go. They spent their evenings together after they got home from work, sometimes cuddling on the couch while watching TV, other times just sitting in companionable silence while reading or working. They made love nearly every night, sometimes in the mornings, and they kissed often mornings and evenings. House thought he was doing a good job of making her feel loved, even though it wasn't the same kind of love he felt for Wilson.

And he wasn't acting. When he held her, when he kissed her, when he smiled at her, it was because he was thinking of her and the fact that he loved her.

It was a typical night a couple of weeks after House had told Lisa about Wilson. The couple had been watching TV on the sofa, but during a commercial House happened to turn toward Lisa and got distracted by just staring at her, and when she'd turned to look at him he'd kissed her.

That was ten minutes ago, and now they were both shirtless, though she still had her bra on, and he was leaning over her on the couch, kissing her neck and collarbone while she was working to undo his belt and take off his jeans.

Lisa's cell phone rang.

"Fuck, it's the hospital," she muttered, pushing House's face away from her chest so she could shimmy out from under him and reach for her phone. "Hello?"

House was not to be deterred. They were sitting up now, but he kissed the back of her neck while she listened to the caller, sliding an arm around her to feel one of her breasts through her bra.

"What happened?" At the answer, she sighed frustratedly into the phone. "All right, I'll be there in twenty minutes," she said, and House growled his disapproval.

"Thirty," he muttered at her as she hung up the phone. "We could make this quick."

"Greg, I'm sorry," she said, extracting herself from his grip and heading to the bedroom to change. "A bridge collapsed just a few blocks from the hospital, the ER is flooded and they need me."

"How many people can there be out driving on a bridge at this time of night?" he asked moodily, grabbing his cane and following her.

"I don't know, enough," she said with a sigh, pulling on a set of scrubs. "I'll try to be back before morning, okay? If I'm not, then I'll just see you at work tomorrow. I love you," she added as she pulled on shoes and headed out the door.

"Love you too," he muttered at her on his way into the bathroom.

After he'd taken care of himself, he went back to the living room, put his shirt back on, and turned on the TV.

The news already had coverage of the bridge collapse, and House watched the nighttime reporters talk about the number of people that had been on the bridge as well as possible causes for its collapse.

He didn't even realise he'd dozed off until his cell phone blared Tata Young's "Sexy, Naughty, Bitchy," and it jolted him awake. It was Lisa.

"Hello?" House said groggily, shutting the TV off to hear better.

"Greg," she replied, sounding worried.

"What's the matter?" he asked immediately.

"Greg, Wilson's here," she said. "He was on the bridge."

House felt his internal organs seem to freeze in place. It felt like his heart had stopped beating, his lungs had stopped moving. Time itself froze. No, it couldn't be...

Lisa was saying something about him being stable and going to be okay, but that didn't mean anything to him. Wilson was hurt and House was here and needed to get there, to the hospital, see him, be with him. What if Wilson died and House wasn't there?

No, Wilson wasn't going to die, Cuddy'd said he'd be all right, but House still needed to see for himself, see what had happened...

He didn't remember hanging up the phone. He didn't remember getting up and reaching for his cane, but his feet, without his knowledge, had taken him to Rachel's room and he was picking her up out of her crib. It was the middle of the night, the toddler had absolutely no desire to wake up, and it was very challenging for House to make it to the garage with her in one arm and his cane in the other. However, there was absolutely no time to call for a babysitter, and even if Lisa was friendly enough with some of the neighbours that she could ask them to babysit at midnight, House certainly wasn't.

A few weeks into their relationship, House and Lisa had gotten into an argument because she'd wanted to put an extra car-seat in his car in case of emergencies, and he didn't want to. Now he couldn't even describe how grateful he was that he'd let her win that one. He strapped his girlfriend's daughter in and climbed into the front seat.

House's leg hurt with every step toward the hospital, mostly because he was carrying twenty-five pounds of dead weight, but he couldn't think about the pain because he was too busy thinking about Wilson. He was sure that if he'd stayed on the line Cuddy would have told him the extent of his injuries, but he'd been too impatient to get to the hospital and see for himself. To his relief, he found Lisa in the ER and she hurried over to him to take her sleeping daughter.

"Where is he?" he asked, looking at her but not really seeing her.

"Greg, it's all right, he's going to be just fine," she assured him, adjusting Rachel on her hip before taking House down the hallway.

He didn't answer her. The most important person in his world had been in an accident; nothing was all right until he saw with his own eyes that he was okay.

"His car fell into the water and he wasn't breathing when they found him, but the paramedics performed CPR and he regained consciousness," she filled him in as they walked. "He's got bruising on his chest from the seatbelt and grade one whiplash, but nothing's broken. Really, Greg, compared to some of the other people who came in, he got off pretty easy."

They made it to Wilson's room, where House could see him lying in bed, asleep. He looked fine, like Cuddy was saying, and House felt relief course through his body. He was going to be okay, but...

House didn't go in right away; he stood at the door, staring at Wilson.

He could have died tonight. He could have died and House hadn't even spoken to him in weeks. He could have died and they'd never been lovers, now they weren't even friends. He could have died and the two of them would never have had the chance to have a life together, to hold each other at night, to whisper 'I love you' when no one else could hear, to kiss...Wilson could have died and they'd never kissed.

Wilson didn't die. Wilson almost drowned but he didn't, he was stable, he was only sleeping, and he would wake up and be all right.

They did have a chance to have a life together.

House stared through the glass hospital walls at the man he loved, the man who had come so close to having his life snatched from him, and he knew he could not pass that chance up. He only wished it hadn't taken a near-tragedy for him to open his eyes and realise what he'd been giving up.

He turned, slowly, to look at Cuddy who was still standing next to him, holding Rachel.

She was so beautiful, even with her hair a mess and wearing the scrubs that weren't at all flattering, and his heart ached for her. But not nearly as much as it ached for the man in the hospital bed. He gave the room a quick longing glance before turning back to his girlfriend. Yes, he loved her and he would miss her, but if he could have Wilson...then that didn't matter.

If he could have Wilson, then nothing else mattered.

"Greg, are you okay?" she asked, putting the hand that wasn't holding Rachel on his arm.

House shook his head. "I..." he said. His voice sounded gravelly and he swallowed. "I changed my mind."

Lisa hung her head, looking incredibly saddened but resigned. "Go," she murmured. "Go on in. He..." her voice broke and House wanted to put her arms around her but he didn't. "He asked for you."

House nodded and she turned away, hitching Rachel up on her body and using both arms to hold her as she walked. He pushed open the door and slowly made his way into the room, staring down at the sleeping Wilson with a reverence.

He sat down in the chair by the bed, leaning his cane against the wall and taking Wilson's hand in his left hand, using his right to touch the side of his face, his hair.

The sleeping man slowly opened his eyes, looked over at House, and broke into a small smile.

"Hey," Wilson said softly. "I wasn't sure if you were going to come."

"Jimmy," House breathed, his fingers threading through Wilson's, which he held with both his hands. His eyes gazed into Wilson's, love and sorrow shining through. "Jimmy, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Hey, it's okay," Wilson whispered back, lifting the hand House was holding to his face so he could stroke the older man's cheek. "I'm just glad you're here."

"I'm not going anywhere," House promised, staring into Wilson's impossibly beautiful brown eyes. "Wilson, I swear. I..." his voice started to break and he looked away. "God, I've been such an idiot!"

"It's okay," Wilson repeated, using his thumb to rub circles against House's stubble.

House didn't think there were any more words to describe the regret he felt for not seeing sense sooner, for choosing Cuddy when what he felt for the woman couldn't even begin to compare to the adoration and passion that he felt for his Wilson...So instead of trying to speak, he stole the younger man's hand from the side of his face and quickly kissed his knuckles. "You..." he said, looking back at Wilson. "You still want me? Even after I–"

"–House," Wilson cut him off, and gave him half a second of a semi-stern look before it became one of tenderness. "Listen to me. I will always want you. You're more than just my best friend; you always have been. I can't stay away from you. These last few weeks have been...so hard..."

"I'm sorry," House repeated. He didn't usually tell people he was sorry, but he wasn't usually this regretful of his actions, and he needed Wilson to know. "I...if I could do it over again, Jimmy, I..." He trailed off and brought Wilson's knuckles to his lips again. Wilson traced the older man's mouth with his thumb, and House let him before kissing that as well.

"House, look at me," Wilson requested. He obliged, but when he did Wilson looked away for a second. "Too many times I've put a woman I cared about a fraction as much as you first. We...we're even."

The diagnostician nodded in agreement, closing his eyes and keeping Wilson's hand by the side of his face. The younger man cupped his cheek, and House was not ashamed to lean into the touch. He'd waited for it too long.

"Did you tell Cuddy?" Wilson asked without letting go.

His eyes still closed, House nodded.

"How'd she take it?"

"I told her I loved you a while ago," he admitted. "She's upset, but it didn't really come as a shock to her." House sighed and opened his eyes to look at his friend, now his lover. "I think she's been waiting for it to happen, just trying to keep me as long as she could."

"I don't blame her," Wilson murmured, giving a small smile and a loving look that was almost overwhelming. Then he yawned.

"You should sleep," House suggested, remembering it was almost one in the morning and Wilson had had a physically and mentally exhausting day. "I'll be here when you wake up," he promised, placing a last kiss to the oncologist's fingers.

Wilson closed his eyes and smiled, letting his hand rest beside him on the bed where House still held it in his.

.

The oncologist slept through the rest of the night and most of the morning while House dozed on and off. He stayed in Wilson's room, getting up and walking around every now and again so his leg wouldn't cramp up.

When the younger man did wake, past nine in the morning, they sat and chatted for awhile, with House even going so far as to ask how Wilson was feeling which, Wilson pointed out, was a first.

House looked at the ground with half a smile on his face. "Things are a little different now," he explained softly, playing with Wilson's fingers.

Wilson squeezed his hand. "And it's about damn time, too," he added with a smile.

"Hey, don't blame me," House replied with a smirk. "If you'd responded to any of the advances I've given you over the last year we could have had this sooner."

"'Advances'?" Wilson repeated. "I think I would have noticed you hitting on me."

"Jimmy," the diagnostician said with an eye-roll. "I broke into your neighbour's apartment just so I wouldn't have to leave yours. I drugged you and stole your pants so you wouldn't fuck up your career and I even complimented you in your little essay with you standing right there. When I thought Cuddy invited me to Thanksgiving dinner last year, I told you you should come as my date. I used the word 'date.' A few weeks after that I serenaded you with George Michaels's _Faith_. Then you decided to be an idiot and donate your liver, and I said to you, 'If you die, I'm alone,' but I came to your surgery anyway and didn't even leave your bedside afterward. I effectively prevented you from starting anything with Nora. I tried to prevent you from starting anything with Sam, and when you two were broken up temporarily the first thing I did was ask you out to dinner. Not to mention all the flirting. Seriously, Wilson, how much clearer can you say, 'I want to get in your pants'?"

Wilson just chuckled, squeezing his hand again. But a few minutes after that they were interrupted by one of Wilson's doctors, who needed to give him a quick examination to make sure he was okay to be discharged. While he was being looked over, House went down to grab some breakfast from the cafeteria. Afterwards, House met his now-boyfriend in his office, where the younger man had changed into the spare clothes he kept there in case of emergencies.

"Hey," Wilson said, seeing him come in and giving him a warm smile that made the diagnostician's heart thump louder and faster to announce its delight with the situation.

"I see they've cleared you," House replied, looking over Wilson's body with interest now that it wasn't torture for him and he didn't have to be subtle about it.

"Yup. My neck still hurts and I don't think I'll be driving over any more bridges for awhile...or swimming...but I'm all right. I was just about to call a cab; do you want to ride to Cuddy's with me or just take your bike?"

House shook his head. "Bike's still at her place, I took my car here last night. She left me home with Rachel and the motorcycle doesn't have room for a car-seat."

Wilson gave a shudder, most likely at the thought of House riding on his motorcycle with Cuddy's daughter strapped to the back, and then smiled at him. "You actually put a car-seat in your car?" he asked, a slight chuckle in his voice.

"It was Lisa's idea, not mine," he defended, smiling back in spite of himself and following Wilson down to the parking lot.

Wilson imitated the sound of a whip cracking and House jabbed him in the shin with his cane. "Hey!" Wilson protested, but he was still smiling so House knew it couldn't have really hurt. Things were starting to return back to normal. Only better.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Just a reminder that this story is rated M. I don't think it will be too long before you figure out why.

Chapter Ten

After leaving the hospital House drove them both to Cuddy's place, where he left the car-seat in the garage and Wilson helped him (really, Wilson did most of the work while House pranced around) gather his various belongings and put them in his trunk and back seat. Fortunately, Cuddy was still at work and the nanny had taken Rachel on an outing, so they had the house to themselves and could flirt shamelessly and make lewd jokes without anyone overhearing.

They spent the afternoon relaxing at the condo, House playing his organ (another thing he'd really missed when he'd been with Cuddy), and Wilson falling asleep on the sofa to the calming music House would not admit he played to soothe him.

At night they ordered takeout and watched 'The L Word,' chatting and laughing. It was just like old times except that they were sitting on the couch with their arms and legs touching, and when they smiled at each other their eyes held unguarded tenderness that they had not shown one another before.

After they ate, Wilson decided to take a shower. House continued to watch TV, listening for the sounds of the water running and for when it stopped. A few minutes later he heard the younger man's feet padding down the hallway to the living room. House turned around to look at him over the back of the sofa and his breath hitched in his throat.

Wilson's hair was still a little wet; it was mostly pushed to the side out of his face, but a few damp strands stuck to his forehead. He was wearing a white cotton undershirt and thin blue-striped sleeping pants with...nope, nothing underneath. His feet were bare and he had a hand stuck to the back of his neck, looking at House almost shyly.

House blatantly stared back. He was starting to get hard just from looking at him.

"I was, uh," Wilson started to say. He paused and glanced back behind him. "I think I'm gonna go to bed soon," he said.

House nodded, still staring at him. He looked up Wilson's body until he reached his face and met his eyes. They were such a soft brown, gentle, just like Wilson.

"Come with me," Wilson requested softly.

Nodding again with a hint of a smile on his face, House got up, grabbing his cane. Once he was sure the older man was following him, Wilson turned and walked back to the bedroom. He was already sitting on the bed when House got there, eyes shining while he waited.

House leaned his cane against the wall and sat down on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off. He'd gotten to the right one and was working on the left when a gentle hand grasped his waist from behind. It was joined by another hand that traced its way lightly up House's back, giving him goosebumps. His left shoe dangled from his toes as he sat unmoving, feeling the contact.

Then two soft lips pressed against the back of his neck, lingering a moment. Wilson pulled back a bit, but remained close enough that the older man could feel his breath against his skin.

House slowly started to turn his body around, his shoe falling unnoticed to the floor as he did so. The movement of his head caused the younger man's lips to find his ear.

"I love you," Wilson whispered, resting his smooth cheek against House's stubbly one as he spoke the words.

House nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak. Wilson pulled back a tiny bit, keeping the sides of their faces only centimetres apart.

House was breathing heavier than normal, and through his mouth. His eyes latched onto Wilson's just inches away, the brown irises sparkling with desire and love. The younger man's lips were slightly parted as he watched House, but the older man was staring at his eyes.

For a second they simply looked at each other, just breathing and being so close they could feel and hear each other's breaths.

Wilson was the one that moved to close the distance, his and House's eyes closing in unison as their lips came together.

Though both their mouths were open, they kept their tongues in their own mouths for the time being. For the first few seconds it was just lips, lips pressing against lips, creating some pressure and then releasing it. It started slow at first, but their movements soon became a bit faster and House had to suppress the urge to moan. At last Wilson's tongue met his between their mouths, tickling it. House pushed back with his own tongue, trying to make it into Wilson's mouth, and he heard a small happy sound from the younger man when he got there.

Needing to breathe, House pulled back, staring at Wilson while they both caught their breaths. Wilson was smiling and he licked his lips, reminding House that in moments that tongue could be licking his lips, and he pulled his legs the rest of the way onto the bed to climb over to Wilson and make that a reality.

This time he slid a hand to the side of the younger man's face to hold his cheek and neck while they kissed, and in return Wilson wrapped his arms around House's waist. Every contact made House shiver, made him want to moan, and he just couldn't get enough. Even though they hadn't been kissing that long he was already completely hard, almost painfully so, but he did not want to rush through this just to get sexual release.

Wilson's need must have been similar to his though, because as they kissed the younger man started undoing the buttons of the older's shirt, slipping a hand beneath the fabric and sliding it over the flesh of House's chest as soon as there was enough room to reach. House made a content "hmm" sound without meaning to before returning to kissing Wilson. After another moment he detached his lips from Wilson's mouth to concentrate instead on his throat and collarbone, kissing and sucking gently, flicking his tongue along the oncologist's salty skin. He smelled nice, like soap.

Wilson had gotten House's shirt completely undone by now, but House's hands were busy holding Wilson's neck and his side and he was not willing to relinquish the holds to take his shirt off. The younger man ran his fingernails, featherlight, down House's chest and stomach, causing him to shiver, before sneaking his hand beneath the shirt and doing the same thing to his back.

Now House was getting envious that Wilson was getting to touch him but he wasn't getting to touch Wilson, so he pulled away again and hooked his thumbs under the hem of Wilson's undershirt, lifting it. Wilson cooperated by letting go of House to lift his hands over his head, and the diagnostician thought he might be nice and let Wilson take his shirt off too, but once the younger man was bare-chested he forgot about that.

A thick purplish-black bruise extended all the way across Wilson's waist and up his chest to his left shoulder. Just looking at it made House want to wince. He spent a second staring before looking at his newfound lover with apologetic eyes.

"It's okay," Wilson whispered, running a hand through House's short hair. "It'll be gone in a couple of weeks. Just...be gentle."

In answer to that, House laid a very soft, very gentle kiss on Wilson's shoulder where the bruise ended. Wilson shivered and massaged House's scalp, leaning back onto the bed. House leaned over him, supporting his weight on his left side so he wouldn't hurt his leg, and kissed his way down Wilson's bruise, barely touching the skin. Wilson was shivering beneath him and House could feel the younger man's erection pressing through his pants into House's stomach. That just made House's own need grow; he was straining against his pants as it was. He continued kissing down Wilson's chest, however, and when he finished laid a chaste kiss to his lips.

Wilson sat up again, pulling House onto his lap so their groins rubbed together.

House couldn't help it—he moaned at that.

Wilson gave a soft chuckle and kissed House's neck, open-mouthed, sucking on the flesh. House took his shirt the rest of the way off and wrapped his arms around his lover, pressing them together as close as he could. Wilson gave his skin a little nip, causing an involuntary groan, and let up, pulling back to look at House. They stared at each other, both sweaty and panting, for a second before kissing again. House threaded his fingers through Wilson's hair and rolled his hips into Wilson.

It was Wilson's turn to moan, and this time when he pulled back from the kiss his eyes were filled with such a lustful look it alone almost made House moan in response. The younger man wrapped his arms around the older so he could roll them both onto the bed without jostling either House's leg or Wilson's neck too much. Wilson lay over House, his eyes looking down on him with such a fiery desire, such yearning that House throbbed in his pants and if he were thirty years younger would have come right there.

They needed to get on with it, holding out like this was almost too much to bear. House had never wanted anything so much in his life, never wanted any_one _so much in his entire life as he wanted his Wilson in that moment.

The younger man must have been thinking along the same lines, because his hands reached to undo House's belt. The diagnostician's entire body positively trembled with anticipation as the leather slid through the loops. Wilson deposited the belt somewhere on the floor before unbuttoning and unzipping House's pants. House lifted his hips to help Wilson shimmy the jeans and boxers down his legs; he extracted his left leg and used it to kick them the rest of the way off.

Wilson spent a second staring at his erection before smiling at House and reaching a hand out to enfold it. The older man grunted at the contact, staring up at Wilson, his breathing getting ragged. Wilson was giving him a few gentle strokes and playing with his balls with the other hand, and even though House didn't want to look away he leaned his head back into the pillow because it just felt so fucking good, especially after he'd been so hard for so long. The oncologist moved on to teasing House's tip, first with his thumb and then his tongue, which caused House to cry out in surprise and pleasure. Wilson chuckled contentedly at his reaction, then moved his head back even with House's to give him another kiss. House kissed back urgently, tasting his own pre-come in Wilson's mouth but not caring. He reached a hand around to cup the younger man's ass and squeezed, hard. Wilson gasped in response, digging his forehead into House's neck and pressing his still semi-clothed groin against his lover's throbbing hard-on.

"Mmm," Wilson said, kissing House's neck quickly. "Give me one second," he panted, and then rolled off of House to fumble through his nightstand. He produced a bottle of lubricant and then rejoined House, looking at him with a trace of hesitation.

House nodded. He grabbed Wilson's waist and pulled him back onto him, pressing their lips together again. Then he shimmied his hands under the waistband of Wilson's sleep pants and pulled them down his hips. Wilson withdrew one leg at a time before using his feet to shove the pants away, causing them to join the rest of their clothes on the floor. House took the lube from Wilson, squirted some into his hand, and grasped the younger man's leaking cock. Wilson moaned into House's shoulder at the contact, thrusting his hips a bit to rub himself against his lover's hand.

Then House used his free hand to hand the lube back to Wilson, lying back down on the bed and rubbing the excess on his own erection.

Wilson slicked up his fingers and then bent down toward House's crotch. First he rolled House's balls between his fingers, and then he traced down his perineum toward his opening.

House tried to relax, though he was nervous, never having done this before. The fact that it was Wilson made it easier though, and he took a deep breath and spread his legs, giving his lover more room. A finger went in slowly, carefully, coaxing him open, nudging his prostate just to hear the whimper it produced, and before too long it was joined by a second and then a third.

After a few minutes of getting him used to the sensation of being filled, Wilson pulled his hand away. He leaned his body up and gave House a quick kiss for reassurance.

"You ready to do this?" Wilson whispered with a smile, slipping the hand not coated in lube through his hair.

"Fuck, Jimmy," House muttered, staring at him. "I've never been readier for anything, ever."

Wilson smiled, kissed him again, and then reached a hand down to guide himself inside.

"House, you've gotta tell me if I'm hurting you," Wilson warned, catching his eye before making his way in.

House nodded in agreement. He winced a bit as Wilson entered—god, the man felt huge to him—but it was so amazing to feel this. Wilson was inside him. The man he loved was inside him. House stared at his Wilson. He could not look away.

"Okay," Wilson said, anchoring a hand on either side of House's waist. He caught his lover's eye and slowly slipped partway out before going the rest of the way in.

Yes, it hurt a little bit, but the pain was nothing to him. House lived with pain every day, and not only did it barely hurt, it was completely outweighed by the fact that the love of his life was fucking him. House shook his head in disbelief. It was like a dream, only so much more vivid than any dream he'd ever had and so much more than he could possibly imagine.

"God, you feel so good, House," Wilson murmured, and hearing that coming from Wilson made House's dick throb.

Wilson leaned over him, closer to him, and began a slow rhythm with his thrusts. He hit his prostate and House moaned, closing his eyes without meaning to and pushing himself against him. "There, Wilson," he muttered. "Oh, god, do that again!" The younger man obliged, smiling down at him, and House cried out involuntarily. He was going faster now, harder, and House wrapped his arms around him because they were as close as two people could possibly be but he wanted them to be closer.

As he started to increase his tempo, Wilson reached a hand between them to hold House's neglected cock, squeezing and rubbing it in time to his thrusts.

"Jimmy, yes," House murmured as the man rubbed him and hit his prostate at the same time.

Wilson was grunting, moaning every now and then, and staring down at House, who stared back whenever he could keep his eyes open. He thrusted harder, angling himself so he would hit House's prostate repeatedly, still using his fingers to stimulate House's penis.

The feelings were almost overwhelming. Wilson's sweaty fingers against him, his desire-filled eyes staring down at him, his erection filling him, and god, every time he hit that spot right there...it sent explosions through his system and it was beyond anything he'd ever experienced and he'd had thousands of orgasms but he hadn't known his body could feel like this. And he was more grateful than ever that on the rare occasion he'd hired a male hooker House had always been the one to do the fucking, or just got sucked off, because this was _Wilson_. This was his love, his _Wilson_ fucking him and filling him and making him feel all these things and god it was just beyond comprehension. And he really didn't mean to but House felt a wetness in his eyes, and he just couldn't help it because it was the most incredible thing in the world and he was so in love with Wilson and he'd never imagined he could actually have this, actually be with his Wilson, but now he was and Wilson loved him and Wilson was making love to him and he couldn't help the fact that he was crying.

"House, are you okay?" Wilson asked sounding panicked. "Am I hurting you? Do you need me to slow down?" He started to before the older man even got a chance to answer the question.

"No," House grunted, embarrassed at not being able to control his emotions and crying like a little girl even though a few tears barely constituted crying. "No, Wilson, god, keep going. Please keep going Wilson, please," he begged.

"I...I'm not hurting you?" Wilson clarified, speeding up again but not quite to the pace he'd been before he noticed House's tears.

Yes, it hurt a tiny bit but that had nothing to do with why he was crying and all the pleasure coursing through his body did more than enough to outweigh it.

"Whatever you're making me feel, Wilson, it's not pain," the older man murmured. "Please. Faster. Harder. More. God, Wilson, I want more."

Wilson began thrusting harder and faster again, hitting House's prostate and causing his fingernails to dig into his back. The younger man's hand was still wrapped around House's dick, and he resumed pumping it as well. His eyes still watched House for signs of pain, but he made no further comment about the tears even as fresh ones began to flow from House's ducts.

They soon lost the rhythm, and House guessed Wilson was getting close—he knew he was. The pressure against his dick and against his prostate nearly every time kept driving him right to the edge and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was thrown right over it. He forced his eyes to stay open so he could watch his lover's face, his eyes wide and shining, his lips apart as he panted, muscles forming almost pained expressions as he slowly started to lose it.

Just staring at Wilson almost did it for House. He'd never seen the man he loved come undone like this before, and the fact that _he_ was the one making that happen, that of all the people in the world Wilson chose him to make love with...

House was thrusting without meaning to—into Wilson's hand and then back onto his dick, back and forth, pleasurable pressure coming from both sides, and before he knew it he was there, everything exploding inside him, immersing him in waves of pleasure with an orgasm so intense he didn't think he'd ever felt its equal. And as he felt himself spurting his release he felt Wilson come inside him, filling him utterly. He forced his eyes open so he could catch a glimpse of Wilson's face and he swore seeing it lengthened his orgasm, even by just a second. His mouth was open and his eyes were closed, looking so high and so completely happy.

House stared at him as the younger man came down from the high, adding a few extra thrusts at the end before resting himself down on House's body. House did not want Wilson to move, did not want them to come apart, but once his orgasm tapered off and he regained touch with reality, he tipped him off his body and rolled over, turning away from Wilson.

Wilson, still attempting to catch his breath, put a hand on House's shoulder. "What's the matter?" he asked, sounding concerned. "Did I do something wrong?"

House shook his head, trying to shrug Wilson off, but the hand remained in place. "I ruined it," he muttered. "We were right in the middle and I fucking started crying. I fucked it up."

"House," Wilson said with a sigh, sounding almost exasperated. He kissed House's shoulder. "House, please look at me," he requested.

He almost didn't want to, he felt ashamed to, but Wilson asked in that voice and he couldn't deny him that. So he rolled back over onto his back and stared up at Wilson, who was looking at him with soft eyes and wearing a fond smile. Wilson pressed his lips gently to House's for a second, and then reached for his face.

"Baby, you didn't ruin anything," Wilson whispered. "So...so you were overcome with emotion in a powerfully emotional moment. There's nothing to be ashamed of, House. I am in love with you and the fact that us making love with that intensity made you cry a little...that just makes me love you that much more, to know that that's how much it meant to you." He kissed House again. "Listen to me," he whispered, stroking the side of House's face. "This has been the most intimate evening of my life. Nothing could possibly ruin it."

Somehow, House believed him, and he took Wilson's body in his arms, pulling the younger man back on top of him. Wilson kissed his neck gently, still caressing the side of his face. House rested his hands on Wilson's back near his waist. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the pillow. It was okay and Wilson loved him. Wilson loved him. Maybe he could light candles for Wilson.

The lips against his throat stopped moving, though the fingers tracing his cheek continued. It was nearly silent, except for the rustle of skin on skin and both their still-heavy breathing. He felt Wilson's body over his, chest against chest, now soft cocks dangling between thighs, legs against legs. They rested together for a few minutes before Wilson started to move, but House tightened his arms around him and whined. "Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere," Wilson murmured in return. "I was going to get off; I'm not leaving."

"I don't want you to move," House muttered, holding the younger man's body against him.

"I've got to be getting heavy by now," Wilson whispered against his skin.

"Don't care," House murmured sleepily. Wilson's weight pressed against him, sandwiching him between his warm soft body and the warm soft bed, and he would never admit it out loud but he felt loved and safe right here just like this and he would be more than content with staying in just this one spot for the rest of his life. After another few minutes he realised, though, that Wilson was naked on top of him with no blanket and was probably a little bit cold, not to mention they were both covered in semen and lubricant. So he reluctantly granted Wilson permission to get up, and they rinsed off and put pyjama pants and undershirts on and got back into bed, under the covers this time.

Wilson slept on the left, just like Lisa had, and House realised that this was the first time he'd thought of her all day. And it was just an observation, a comparison between them. He wasn't fantasising about being in bed with her, guiltily wishing it were she instead of Wilson beside him. He was in love with Wilson and he knew, with certainty, that he'd finally made the right choice.

His right choice leaned over to kiss him. "Goodnight," Wilson whispered, his eyes in the dim light glowing with joy and love. He turned over on the bed, lying on his right side, and House rolled onto his right side and slipped an arm around him. He kissed the back of his neck.

"Goodnight, Jimmy."

* * *

_Epilogue_

_They walked into the hospital, and he noticed her out of the corner of his eye. She was approaching them._

_"Go on," he said with a nod. "I'll see you upstairs later."_

_Wilson gave him a smile and squeezed his free hand before departing to the elevators._

_He continued walking, catching her eye from across the way._

_"Hey," she said when she reached him. She nodded toward Wilson. "How is he?"_

_"Doing better," he responded. "The pain from the whiplash is starting to go away. He's fine, really."_

_"That's good." Her smile was strained, but it was there._

_"Lisa..." he started to say, but then he just looked down._

_She followed suit. "It's okay," she murmured, her voice very small. "You've gotta be with who you've gotta be with, Greg. I'm not gonna pretend I'm not...upset...but I understand why you did it." She sighed. "I don't hold it against you."_

_He surprised her by kissing the side of her forehead. "I'm not..." he muttered. "I'm not sorry, but...I'm sorry I made a promise I couldn't keep."_

_"I know," she whispered._

_He stepped back to look at her. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked._

_She smiled at his concern. "I'll get through it," she said. "Listen, I...I know you really tried, and I want to thank you for that. I spent the last few weeks wondering if I was doing the right thing by staying, and part of me was just selfish and wanted to be with you, but also...I could see that you really wanted us to work, and I appreciated that. That I meant enough to you that you would pick me over Wilson...while you did. But I also knew...in the end...that it would be him." She looked at him and shrugged. "I think I've always known." She gave him a weak smile and he returned it._

_"So we're okay?" he clarified, looking her over._

_"Yeah," she said with a resigned sigh. "We're okay."_

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** Guess what? I decided at the last minute to write an epilogue, and while writing it I actually came up with a title. It's kind of cliché but I think it's more fitting than "Untitled," which kind of implies that it's not important enough to merit a title. So now that you've finished it, the story you have just read is called "A Promise He Couldn't Keep."

And on a completely unrelated note, I made a House/Wilson slash video yesterday. It has nothing to do with this story; I'm just promoting myself. The song is really cheesy, I know, but I still think it's kind of cute. Anyway if you have three minutes to spare check it out just delete the spaces...

http:/www . youtube . com / watch ? v=sEtwOBSiWOM


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